


Incomitatus

by Lightsider



Series: Socius [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Young Justice
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxious Tim Drake, Barbara Gordon is a gift, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Bruce Wayne should give more Hugs, Comic Book Science, Denial, Depressed Dick Grayson, Depression, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Confused, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Legal Matters, Mental Health Issues, No One Disobeys Alfred, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Roy Harpor, Recovery, Spitfire - Freeform, Suicidal Thoughts, Tim Drake is Robin, Tim Drake is a Good Detective, Tim drake needs a hug, Wally Ships It, Wally West is a Good Bro, suicidal idealization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 23:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 97,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11908608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightsider/pseuds/Lightsider
Summary: After the invasion, Dick just needs time to process on his own. Unfortunately, Bruce has been overprotective since Jason's death, and Tim notices more than he should, so Dick pushes everyone out. He should feel guilty - he just feels numb.





	1. Prologue: Alfred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alfred is concerned.

The manor was quiet. The manor had not been this still since before the arrival of Bruce’s first young ward. The same ward, who was now a young man attempting to save the entire world, along with the streets of Gotham and Bludhaven. The same ward, who refused to return to the manor or even to the cave once he noticed that Alfred had switched his coffee to decaf and had added sedatives to the antidote to Ivy’s latest toxin.

Alfred did not regret his choices. No, the young sir needed rest desperately. He did, however, regret the obviousness of his sedative choice. Had he chosen a milder sedative, there was a good chance the young sir would have not noticed and assumed he had simply passed out from exhaustion. But what’s done was done.

The young sir had not returned in over a week, and Alfred was not worried. No, the old gentleman followed the news of Batman’s and Nightwing’s whereabouts. His youngest charge was indeed alive and according to the press, unharmed. Not that the reporters would truly have an accurate assessment of Richard’s health, but at the very least, it meant that the vigilante was still able to perform adequately. 

No, the elderly butler was not worried. He was, however, concerned. Richard had accrued a rather substantial sleep debt since Bruce was forced to leave to stand trial on Rimbor. 

The stress of attempting to protect the world from the Reach, the secrets he kept from the others, and his asinine decision that Batman and Nightwing must be seen patrolling and protecting their cities had depleted the young sir’s impressive resources. The depression that lurked behind his laughter as a teenager was resurfacing, and there was little Alfred could do to prevent it. 

Well now that the young sir had seen fit to remove himself from Alfred’s watch, there was nothing he could do to prevent it. No matter how adequately Richard performed under these trials, Bruce would be displeased to hear about his son’s worsening mental condition. Alfred had already failed one child, was he doomed to fail another?

Perhaps if Jason had survived – no. He would not focus on what ifs. That was no way forward. He returned his attention to the stove. If nothing else, he would make sure that whatever location the young man had taken residence in was stocked with his charge’s favorite dishes. 

The doorbell rang. He placed the wooden utensil on the spoon rest beside the stove and walked to the door. It was a quarter after three, which meant Timothy had returned to the manor instead of his own home or to the team. He prayed that didn’t spell disaster. 

He opened the door and took Timothy’s jacket. Alfred did not know how the young sir could tell, but as soon as the door closed, his face fell. 

“He hasn’t returned yet?” There was a note of hope dying as the young teenager spoke. 

Alfred did not appreciate Richard passing off his responsibilities with Timothy, while he saved the world. That was a habit he wished his charge had not emulated from his eldest. 

“I am afraid not, Master Timothy.”

“I don’t understand, Alfred. Is he trying to get himself killed?” 

“I am certain Master Richard will recognize his limitations soon.” There was no reason to concern the latest Robin with his own doubts. 

The frankly adorable mini-batglare directed at him proved that the boy was not fooled. Still, it was more productive to solve problems, rather than analyze them. Alfred led the young boy into the kitchen. 

“I trust you will be able to guarantee that this food is delivered to Master Richard and not the others.”

Timothy’s glare turned into a small smile. “Only if you also baked cookies for the others.” 

The timer dinged and Alfred pulled a fresh sheet of cookies out of the oven with a smile. 

Timothy sat down on a stool by the kitchen island and reached for a cookie off the plate Alfred handed him. “You’re the best, Alfred.” 

Alfred offered a smile to the boy – if only his grandson felt the same.


	2. Chapter 1: Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce needs more information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place on June 20th, approximately 2 months after the prologue. The day Wally died, and Batman and the rest of the leaguers return from Rimbor.

The ride back to the Batcave was silent. Batgirl alternated between gazing out the window lost and sending looks at Nightwing that vacillated between angry and concerned. Barbara had no doubt discovered Dick’s subterfuge, but that did not explain the concern. The icy tendrils of worry that increased during Batman’s time on Rimbor intensified.

Tim sat with his forearms resting on his thighs and his hands between his legs. His entire posture suggested defeat. Batman knew he had never seen this Robin look so lost. He would have to have words with his latest partner – after he ascertained exactly what had happened while he was absent. 

Bruce’s most pressing concern, though, was his original partner seated next to him in the front seat. Batman had never seen the first Robin so quiet or so still – except after Jason’s death. 

He froze.

Someone had died. 

Someone close to Dick, which narrowed it down not at all. 

He felt his hands grip the steering wheel tighter. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Nightwing turn towards him; Bruce forced himself to loosen his grip and focused on evening out his breathing. It would do no good for anyone if Batman lost his composure when the rest of his team had depleted their resources. 

Dick, however, noticed right away; he always did. The change in his eldest’s posture was slight, but enough to belie the previous silence. He leaned his arm against the door, rested his head on the back of his hand, and gave Bruce an embarrassingly fake smile.

“So, how was Rimbor? Did you get to see any sights?” Nightwing asked. 

“If you count the gray walls of the cells and the smells of a barely legal prison, then yes.” 

Nightwing’s face smiled a bit less forced. “You can’t fool me B-Man. We all know you love dark colors.” 

Behind Bruce, Tim snorted and Barbara rolled her eyes. Nightwing grinned and the whites of his mask widened. Batman had never figured out how his son had managed to achieve that particular feat, nor was he fooled regarding the mental state of his eldest. 

“I bet you spent time learning to sleep upside down from the prison bars just to scare the guards.” 

Bruce neglected to reply, but he heard Tim muffle a laugh behind him. 

Batman guided the Batmobile down the familiar winding roads to the cave. He parked the car, and his trio exited the car with the same lethargy that only Dick was trying to mask. Tim and Barbara left for the showers, and Bruce looked for Alfred. 

There was no sign of the aging butler. No carafes of hot coffee or hot chocolate, no plates of post-patrol/mission sandwiches. Even the computer was off and cold. It was as if the cave hadn’t been used in months. 

An icy feeling sank into Batman’s gut. 

No. 

Not Alfred. 

He turned to Nightwing, who hadn’t run off to the showers but was leaning against a table next to the computer. “Alfred?” The word was choked out. Bruce could feel his throat tighten. He would not survive another loss.

Dick loosened his stance immediately and laid a steading hand on Batman’s shoulder. “Hey, no. He’s fine. He probably just didn’t expect us back so soon.” 

The fear that had hardened in his gut loosened, but being this close to his son he could see the end of dark bags that hung under Nightwing’s mask. He’d wager that when he saw the first Robin without his mask, he would see circles akin to black eyes. The fear turned to resolve. 

“Who?” 

Nightwing dropped his hand from Batman’s shoulder and turned away. “Wally.” 

“I thought he retired,” Bruce said and mentally cursed himself. He did not know the first thing about comforting someone, but he knew that was not the proper way to console his son. 

“I forced him out of retirement,” Nightwing spoke but directed the words towards a cave wall instead of Bruce.

_Oh, Dickie._

__“It wasn’t your fault.”_ _

__Nightwing snorted and shook his head, “No offense Batman, but you don’t have a clue what happened.” Nightwing turned around, and Bruce saw the anger that lined his son’s face. “Take your platitudes elsewhere.”_ _

__Bruce had been about to return the comforting gesture Dick offered him earlier, but he withdrew his hand when Nightwing whirled on him. Batman’s gloved hand froze awkwardly in midair between them; he dropped it to his side._ _

__A tiny pointed cough interrupted them. Both Batman and Nightwing turned their attention towards Tim, who had changed into sweats and an oversized red hoodie._ _

__“I need to head home,” Tim said as he glanced between the two of them. “It’s been a few days, and I need to make sure the maids haven’t noticed my absence. I’ll see you tomorrow?”_ _

__Bruce nodded but noticed the last question was directed toward his eldest._ _

__“Get some rest, Tim. The next two weeks Young Justice will be on alternating vacation weeks. You’re up first. You’ve earned it.” Dick replied with a noticeably tight smile._ _

__“You too.” Tim said and headed up the stairs before Nightwing could reply._ _

__“Baby Bird’s right, Boy Wonder. We’ve all earned some rest,” Barbara said as she returned from the changing rooms wearing yoga pants and a green sweater. “I’ve got to get home. I had to withdraw from some classes last semester, and I’m retaking them this summer. Do me a favor and don’t schedule the next invasion during the middle of midterms.”_ _

__“I’ll send a message to the neighboring star systems and let them know.” Dick’s tone was teasing, but Bruce knew his son well enough to see his heart wasn’t in it._ _

__Apparently so did Barbara, because the smile fell from her face. “Get some rest,” she ordered before heading up the stairs to the manor. Bruce wasn’t sure if she started storing a car here, or if he would have to track down a missing Ferrari in the morning. He had more pressing concerns._ _

__As the secret doors closed, Batman returned his attention to Nightwing, who was no longer pretending he was relaxed. His posture was rigid and coiled. Bruce looked at him at a loss for the proper words or actions. He opened his mouth to speak, not sure what would come out, but Dick beat him to it._ _

__“Save it, Batman. You’ll have my report on everything you missed tomorrow.”_ _

__His son clearly didn’t want to talk about anything. Dick truly chose the worst of him to emulate. Well, tough. Batman had spent the last six months in a nine by nine cell worrying about his family, his city, and his team, only to return to have his fears confirmed regarding his son._ _

__“Will the report also include a section on your mental health?”_ _

__Nightwing’s arms crossed, and the whites of his mask narrowed. “There’s nothing to report.”_ _

__Batman felt the pit of cold fear melt and shift into anger. “You do not get to decide what a report includes, Nightwing.” Batman growled._ _

__The shorter vigilante’s face hardened. “I don't need your protection, Batman.” Nightwing spat the last word like a curse.  
__

__Bruce froze._ _

__“I haven’t since you got Jason killed,” Nightwing finished._ _

__“Robin died because he disobeyed direct orders.” Warning laced Batman’s words. He stood over Nightwing, daring him to continue._ _

__His former partner met him head on. “Keep telling yourself that. Jason died because you failed him.”_ _

__“Enough,” Batman growled._ _

__“I don’t wear red and yellow, and I’m not in your precious league. You don’t get to order me around.” Nightwing threw the words at Batman and headed towards the cave’s garage. Out of instinct, Batman grabbed the retreating figure’s arm. Nightwing pulled his arm and turned towards Bruce. There was a brief millisecond when Bruce was almost sure that Dick was going to collapse into a hug, but the instant was gone too quickly, replaced by a face hardened into anger._ _

__“I don’t need you. I never needed you.” Nightwing sneered. “And I definitely don't need your failed attempts at fatherly concern." Dick's face shifted into something ugly. "You'd be a disappointment to your parents.”_ _

__Bruce felt his muscles tense and his hands form into a fist. If this conversation continued, he would do something he’d regret._ _

__“Get out!”_ _

__“With pleasure,” Nightwing spat as he strode towards his motorcycle. He hopped on and sped out of the cave without looking back._ _

__Batman stormed towards his dormant computer. He needed to know what transpired while he was absent. Batman had just gotten through the third password on his system when a quiet cough sounded behind him._ _

__“I do believe a shower and rest are in order, sir.”_ _

__Batman would have ignored the butler’s presence, but Bruce missed him, so he compromised on a grunt of acknowledgement._ _

__“Your endeavor to be informed of the previous six months’ events is admirable. However, the stench radiating from you and your suit is not. I daresay, Master Bruce, did they not allow you access to any cleaning facilities.”_ _

__They hadn’t, and Bruce had stopped noticing his own smell long ago. He knew there would be no arguing with the butler on this point though, so he headed towards the showers._ _

__Alfred’s voice made him pause and turn around. “I take it Master Dick has sought accommodations elsewhere.”_ _

__There was a look of disappointment on his surrogate’s father’s face, and Bruce could offer nothing to dispel it, so he simply nodded before continuing towards the locker room._ _


	3. Chapter 2: Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dick is restless, and Roy is a good friend.

Dick launched his grapple gun and swung through the air. There had been little to no crime tonight. There were no fires, no breakouts, barely any muggings. The oppressive humidity must have led to a decrease in criminal activity, which was not a terrible thing as his sweat practically glued his suit to his skin. 

Nightwing could head home, but he was restless. 

He had nothing to do. There was no justifiable reason to not be at home in his bed asleep, except that he couldn’t sleep. At least if he was flying, he could think without the crushing darkness that permeated the edges of his vision. 

Perched on a roof overlooking most of downtown Bludhaven, Nightwing was desperate for even a litterer to scare into law-abiding submission when he noticed Red Arrow half hidden in the shadows of another building. 

Dick rolled his eyes. Roy may have wanted to pretend he wasn’t rusty, but even on a bad day Arrow had been better with stealth, and it looked as if the older vigilante hadn’t spotted him yet. Really that had to be embarrassing, Nightwing wasn’t even trying. 

He could delay the inevitable or just get the conversation over with. It had been what? A whole three days since he disappointed someone, he was due. 

_Jason died because you failed him. ___

No. Absolutely not. He pushed the vitriol that had sprung off his tongue the other night out of his mind. It had been necessary. Bruce was better off without Dick. He had Alfred. He had Tim. Batman had Robin. Nightwi- Dick was not needed. 

Dick shoved the thoughts out of his head. He had more urgent problems like an unwanted vigilante in Bludhaven. Of all the people to come looking for him, he hadn’t expected Roy. 

Great, Dick better not be Roy’s new pet project. He needed to nip whatever this was in the bud quickly, which meant another fun shouting match...or something. He didn't know how to handle Roy anymore. 

_You'd be a disappointment to your parents._

____

____

____Nightwing stumbled his landing as the unwanted reminder of how truly terrible he was assaulted him._ _ _ _

____Well he might as well get this over with._ _ _ _

____He sent his address to Roy’s phone and headed off towards his warehome._ _ _ _

____Nightwing checked the perimeter of his home, double checked for surveillance before he swung into the window. He stumbled into the warehouse and stripped off his suit. He didn’t have time for a shower, nor did he enjoy the idea of being that vulnerable with Red Arrow, so he slipped on a pair of loose sweats and a t-shirt from Bludhaven University._ _ _ _

____A knock sounded at the door. Dick opened it to reveal an angry Roy Harper. The weary vigilante leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed and offered the older man a smile._ _ _ _

____“What brings you here?”_ _ _ _

____Roy shoved past him into the living space. “You’re an idiot,” he growled._ _ _ _

____The clone stood in the middle of Dick’s warehome and glared at his surroundings._ _ _ _

____“Explain to me why you are living in this shithole, and it better be good.”_ _ _ _

____Dick pushed himself from the doorframe and shut and locked the door. “There’s no reason to insult my warehome.” He smiled. “I like it here.”_ _ _ _

____“You are an idiot,” Roy repeated._ _ _ _

____Dick rolled his eyes. “What do you want Roy?”_ _ _ _

____The older vigilante turned towards Dick and focused his glare on him._ _ _ _

____“An explanation.”_ _ _ _

____Dick shrugged. He did not want to start this conversation with Roy. “Bruce and I fought,” he offered. Bruce and his fights were legendary since Dick had turned 15. It should be enough for Roy. “I needed some space.”_ _ _ _

____Roy’s eyes narrowed. “You sure you’re not punishing yourself for Wally’s death. Because the way I see it no one has heard from you for three days, and you’ve either forgotten you are wearing your mask, or you’re unsuccessfully trying to cover up the fact that you haven’t slept.”_ _ _ _

____“I’ve been busy,” Dick replied. He could feel his emotions building into something... not good._ _ _ _

____“Right,” Roy snorted. “Did you know Wally called me after Jason died?”_ _ _ _

____Whatever emotion that was building in Dick cut off and he lost his footing in this conversation. Anger he could deal with, but the man did not have the emotional stamina to have another one of those conversations. He had had them with everyone._ _ _ _

____M’gann apologized profusely for not saying anything when she noticed the darkness that surrounded his brain. She had been afraid that she had accidentally invaded his mind, so she did not know how to approach him._ _ _ _

____Connor had not known what to do, but he had trusted Dick to come to him if needed. He promised he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice._ _ _ _

____Kaldur had given him space to grieve out of respect. He had not realized how deep the anguish ran for Dick._ _ _ _

____Artemis had tried to distract him, but she admitted that Dick had been more successful in distracting her from her pursuit._ _ _ _

____And Wally. Wally never needed to apologize because he saw everything happening, and he tried to stop Dick. He had gone as far as to try to contact Bruce, but Bruce was even more unreachable than Dick after Jason died._ _ _ _

____Once Dick was found, Wally kept apologizing for not being there. But Wally was the only one who had been. And now he was –_ _ _ _

____Dick cut the train of thought of quickly. “No, he never mentioned it.”_ _ _ _

____“Figures. He was always better than the two of us deserved.” Roy shook his head and sat down on the ancient green couch that was covered in various stains that Dick had been using as a makeshift bed. “He was worried about you. I told him Dickhead knew how to take care of himself. And then,” Roy didn’t finish the thought and his gaze turned to his hands._ _ _ _

____“And then I was found halfdead on an unsanctioned mission in the Amazon,” Dick finished for him._ _ _ _

____The glare returned and Dick almost shrank under the heat of it. “It was more than halfdead from what I heard.”_ _ _ _

“Did you also hear that I got help?” And hadn’t that been fun. Bruce benched him for three months and forced him into counseling until _you prove to me that you’re no longer a threat to the mission or yourself._

____

____

______“So you’re not blaming yourself for Wally’s death?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Dick opened his mouth to reply but couldn’t find the words. When did Roy Harper of all people learn to read him? He closed his mouth and decided to join Roy on the couch._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I just need space to grieve on my own,” he said._ _ _ _ _ _

______“As long as you go to the funeral tomorrow and I don’t hear about any disappearances,” Roy replied. He nudged Dick with his shoulder. “An annoying bird once told me we were friends.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Dick smiled. “Are you sure you don’t mean a charismatic, handsome bird?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Roy rolled his eyes. “Go to sleep or I will tranq you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Dick threw his legs on top of Roy and laid back. “You’re kinda taking up half of my bed.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______His friend threw the younger man's feet back onto the ground and stood up. Dick pouted._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You could threaten to throw yourself off this building, and I still wouldn’t cuddle with you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“There’s no need to be so ru- hey, what are you doing?” Dick’s hand shot up to grab Roy’s arm in a vice grip._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m just removing your mask. Trust me, you’ll sleep better with it off.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Dick relaxed and ignored Roy’s quiet cursing about the bags under his eyes. He could hear Roy doing something in his apartment, but Dick didn’t know or particularly care. His limbs felt unbelievably heavy, and now that his eyes were closed, he didn’t think he could find the strength to reopen them._ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of hurt/comfort before the funeral.  
> 


	4. Chapter 3: Artemis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Artemis grieves.

Artemis raced up the stairs of the church. She pushed open the doors and slowed to a more appropriate indoor pace. Tucking the hair that had flown out of place behind her ears, she prepared to enter the sanctuary. 

“Can I help you sweetie?” An older African American woman called to her from a side office. 

“I’m running late,” Artemis replied as she opened the sanctuary doors to an empty room, save for Mary and Rudolph West, who sat near Wally’s coffin. The air immediately fled from her lungs. She froze. 

“Honey, the funeral doesn’t start for another hour,” the woman said, walking up to stand beside her.

Artemis blinked. Oh god. She was early. She hadn’t been early since she and Wally stopped dancing around each other. Wally was always late, always making her late. Oh god. She brought a hand up to her face as her throat tightened. She could feel the tears burning in her eyes. She was early. She was never going to be late again. 

The tears pricked at her eyes. 

“Oh, sweetie,” soothed the voice beside her, before two strong arms wrapped her in a hug. 

Artemis fell into them. The sobs came from deep inside. Her breaths were short and desperate, and the tears would not stop. Her throat was too tight; she was not sure she was breathing. 

A lifetime passed. Maybe two. 

Artemis found her breath and pulled away from this stranger who she fell to pieces on. 

“I’m sorry,” she started, but the grieving woman stopped when she noticed the black robes and the stole with the two crosses. “Oh god. I’m so sorry.” 

Artemis had never been to a church, but she was certain the proper etiquette for greeting a pastor was not to use them as a snot rag. 

The pastor wrapped an arm around her and gave her a comforting glance. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize. This is my job.” 

“He was my – he was,” Artemis choked. “I wanted to marry him.” 

“Wally was a good kid,” the woman said. 

Artemis blinked. “Did you know him?” 

Wally had never mentioned religion, not really. She assumed he placed religion and spirituality in the same box he put magic in: impossible, not real, often true anyway, but not science. 

“Mary and Rudolph have been coming to my church for a long time. I baptized Wallace as an infant.” The woman smiled. “He always asked the best questions.” 

Artemis snorted and felt horrified.

“I’m sorry. It’s just – I can’t imagine Wally asking nice questions.” 

“Oh, they were rarely nice,” she laughed. “But they were honest. A good faith needs honest questions.” 

Artemis found it easy to picture a young messy haired Wally asking this woman about science and God, arguing about concrete data versus hocus pocus. She laughed and then she felt the pain in her chest again. Wally. 

The pastor pulled her in for another hug. “People will be arriving soon. There’s a restroom down the hall for you to freshen up in.” 

Artemis withdrew to the bathroom. She looked awful. Her eyes were red and splotchy. Dark smudges of mascara smeared under her eyes. She scrubbed her face until all the make-up was off. Her eyes were still puffy but she didn’t care. 

She had been ice of repressed emotions, and Wally had been a fire of feeling. He had taught her that life could feel so vibrantly. He made her realize that emotions could be so pure. He had melted away something inside of her. Today, for him, she would embrace it.

Returning to the sanctuary, Artemis noticed that people had started to gather. She took a seat up in the second row, directly behind Wally’s parents and Barry and Iris Allen. Rudolph had one arm wrapped around his wife, but his gaze was distant. Mary cried into a handkerchief. Barry looked absolutely wrecked, and Iris whispered words to him. She doubted any of them noticed her approach. Artemis was glad. It freed her from trying to find empty words. 

A rustle to her left informed her that Jade, holding Lian, and Roy were here. Artemis nodded in acknowledgment. She was not in the mood for conversation, especially Jade’s form of conversation. 

Jade didn’t take the hint. 

Her older sister leaned over to her and asked, “What’s in the coffin anyway?”

Artemis turned to face her sister with an incredulous expression on her face. She would be angry.

Except it’s Jade. 

And she’s here. For Artemis. 

“Jade, shut up,” Roy growled. 

Her sister turned her attention to the man beside her. “What? It’s an honest question. I thought he vanished.” 

“Jade,” Roy growled deeper. 

The brunette raised the hand not holding Lian in surrender. “Fine, fine. I was just curious.” An arm wrapped around Artemis. “How you holding up baby sis?” 

Artemis slipped out of the uncomfortable embrace. “Can we just not talk?” She pleaded. 

There’s a look on Jade’s face that Artemis did not want to decipher.

“Sure.” 

The pastor, who Artemis used as a human tissue and didn’t even ask her name, approached the front of the room to begin her message. 

Artemis tried to listen. She did, but there was a dull buzzing in her ears. There are motions and movement, but the archer was frozen in place. She knew time was passing, but not how it connected to her. There was something moist on her face. She lifted her fingers up to touch her cheek. 

Reality crept back into her awareness. They were tears. She has been crying, the silent tears that are more familiar than the ugly sobbing of earlier. Lian was making noises in Jade’s lap. A stab of pain shot through her. She turned from the baby. She couldn’t stand to see the new life, Jade’s family, while everything of hers had been ripped away. 

The service ended; Artemis shook hands with Wally’s parents. Barry pulled her into a tight, uncomfortable hug. She didn’t know what escaped her lips, but Mary cried and Rudolph nodded, so she hoped it was acceptable. She turned to follow the other attendees to the reception room when she saw him. 

He was in the back corner of the church by himself. Wearing a dark black suit and tie, his hair was combed in that stupid way he often wore as Dick Grayson, but she couldn’t see his baby blues. 

Anger rose inside of her. She stormed over to his secluded corner.

“Take them off,” she hissed. 

He hid his eyes behind those stupid sunglasses he wore as Rob. 

“Hey Artemis,” he greeted. 

“Take them off or I will knock them off,” she snarled, hands clenching at her sides. 

How dare he? How dare he? 

Dick raised his arms slowly. “Hey, chill. I just didn’t want this to turn into a headline about Dick Grayson.” 

“Bull,” she spat. 

Artemis pulled her fist back. The light of a stain glass window caught her eye. She was in a church. She was in a church at Wally’s funeral. About to punch his best friend. 

“Everything okay here?” A voice asked, and she caught a flash of red hair that stopped her brain. 

Roy. 

Because Wally was dead. 

“It’s fine,” she said and stomped off.

On top of a hill next to the church, Artemis sat alone. Her back pressed against a tree, and her head rested on her bent knees. 

She had no idea how long she sat there, when she heard Dick’s soft footsteps approach. He sat down beside her with plenty of space between them. His legs kicked out in front of him with his weight resting on his arms behind him. 

He took the sunglasses off his face, hooking them onto his shirt. 

Artemis glanced at his eyes. They were hollow. A deep fear ran through her body. 

“I’m sorry,” she choked. 

“Don’t be,” he replied. “You were right.” 

They fell into silence. 

Artemis felt drained. She knew Dick was not okay. It was written in his silence, in his dull eyes, in his stupid hair. 

But she also knew that she could not be there for Dick. Not now. Not with this.

Artemis was strong, always had been. But she could not handle Dick’s grief on top of her own. She would fall from the weight of it, but still –

“Don’t do it again,” she ordered.

Dick turned a questioning glance toward her. “What?”

“Don’t almost die again,” she clarified.

Dick didn’t flinch, but she could hear the shift in his voice. “I’m not that selfish.”

No. He’s not. Dick Grayson was one of the least selfish people she knew. 

“Good.” She nodded and then pushed herself off the ground. “We should head back.” 

The younger man stood up next to her and shook his head. “No, I need to go home.” 

She understood. 

They walked off in different directions. Artemis turned back once. 

Dick had Bruce and Alfred and an entire team to stand with him. 

He’d be okay.


	5. Chapter 4: Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce broods a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a week or so after Wally's funeral. 
> 
> Also, I know that in the comics Bruce fires Dick after he gets shot by the Joker and the two fight. A. Lot. The creators of Young Justice said that this Dick simply outgrew the Robin role. As Bruce and Dick fighting is pretty central to their characters, I took a more combined approach - especially because Dick would have had to become Nightwing pretty early (i.e. before he left the manor legally) for Jason to train, become Robin, die and Tim to take over as Robin.

Bruce Wayne sat in his well-worn, comfortable leather desk chair. He had been studying Wayne Enterprises financial reports for the last few hours. Batman had delved into the past six months of mission reports, searching for information. He read each report three times, concluded that Nightwing blamed himself for every single mistake - another habit he had unfortunately picked up from him, though Batman saw far fewer flaws with Nightwing’s plans than his protégé did. The one mistake had been keeping Kaldur’s true loyalties a secret. Batman could not fault the team leader for that. He would have done the same thing. It was the right call, but sometimes even the right call had unforeseen consequences. 

In all honesty, the team should have realized Kaldur wasn’t with the Light. Dick had fought tooth and nail to tell the original team his identity. _Wally knows already. Come on, Bruce. I need friends. Real friends. Not friends who only know half my life. _It was the mission in Rhelasia that decided Batman. The team had risked their lives for Robin, and they kept asking for permission to visit him as he recovered. The team cared for Robin. For Dick. Batman couldn’t deny Robin that.__

__When the reports of Kaldur switching allegiances to join his father came in, Bruce prepared. He had plans for this, and he would have a long lecture with Dick about identities – except Dick never reported a threat to their civilian lives. Dick did not have the slightest concern. In fact, his son did not even mention in it. Dick never would have put Alfred at risk, so Bruce drew the only logical conclusion. Kaldur was a double agent. The original team should have been able to figure it out. The fact that they did not said more about their own deductive reasoning skills than Dick’s ability to lead._ _

__Bruce sighed, taking a sip of hot, delicious coffee. The first good coffee he had today, delivered by his secretary. The coffee brewed at the manor had managed to be both lukewarm and burnt. A testament to Alfred’s prowess of not only creating delicious food but thoroughly destroying it as well.  
__

__The CEO rubbed circles around the corners of his tired eyes, trying to focus on the screen in front of him. Nightwing performed adequately during Batman’s absence. Dick Grayson, heir to Wayne Enterprises, on the other hand… Bruce suspected that Dick did just enough to make sure his company did not tumble into financial ruin, but had also somehow managed to tweak with the financial and other reports enough to cause headaches for Bruce when he returned. A less than subtle reminder that his son was not interested in the business world._ _

__Bruce Wayne had hardly needed the unfriendly reminder. When Bruce had forced the 16-year-old ex-Robin into a summer internship with his company, his son responded by creating a virus that caused all the computers to only type in the wingding font. When he explained that all vigilante activities would be suspended while his company remained paralyzed, the teenager fixed the computers but continued to fine creative ways to give his father headaches throughout the workday. Bruce was still not sure who was more relieved when school restarted in the fall._ _

It was the second day of his return when Lucius called and explained to him in no uncertain terms that Bruce was never allowed to use an alien to impersonate him again. Bruce had snorted because persuading M’gann to impersonate Bruce, so Dick could neglect a board meeting was just so Dick. Despite his son’s protests of the business world being a soul-crushing, life-sucking boredom zone, Lucius informed him that his son was an excellent businessman, a negotiator without peer, and a fantastic schmoozer. _That being said if you ever leave him in charge of paperwork again, I will resign._

__

He didn’t have _proof _that Dick purposely made all the paperwork terribly mind-boggling and headache-inducing, he just suspected it. It was a terribly Dick Grayson thing to do.__

____

__

______He minimized the frustrating report, closing his laptop. Stretching his legs, he stood at his office window overlooking the city, wondering about his wayward son. Dick didn’t want Bruce in his life, and although the middle-aged man was not sure where he had fumbled this time, Bruce would respect the boy’s wishes, provided that the younger vigilante remained safe. Dick would accuse him of being overbearing, Bruce could not have cared less._ _ _ _ _ _

______According to news reports, Nightwing currently protected Bludhaven, but the warehouse Dick had secured for his teammates after the destruction of Mount Justice had been abandoned. If Dick procured other lodgings, he had done so without any of the accounts Bruce knew about, which meant his son had created hidden accounts that he needed to find. Unfortunately, that task needed to be done from the Bat Computer._ _ _ _ _ _

______Glancing at the clock, the CEO realized it was nearing five o’clock. He returned to his computer; he could devote a couple more hours to decoding the reports before returning home._ _ _ _ _ _

______It was past seven when Bruce Wayne returned to Wayne Manor. The more recent reports hadn’t had Dick’s aggravating tampering most likely because his ward ran out of time to commit to his prank. In fact, the more recent reports had a precision that Dick never willingly exhibited for business. It was likely that Tim took over that aspect as Dick spread himself too thin._ _ _ _ _ _

______Bruce parked his Aston Martin in the garage, unsurprised to discover that Alfred did not meet him at the door. His now cold dinner had been left on the table. There was no sign of Alfred. His father figure reached a level of disappointment and anger towards Bruce that had never been displayed before. His butler was, quite frankly, pissed to discover that Batman had kicked Nightwing out.  
Bruce glared at the needless reminder that he had failed. He was well aware that he had botched relations with Dick, even if he did not fully understand how. During Dick’s teenage years, their fights escalated until Robin quit, but Bruce had always understood why they were fighting, namely the teenager started stubbornly refusing to listen and obey orders. _ _ _ _ _ _

______He chewed the overcooked disaster and headed downstairs to the Bat computer. Batman was attempting to discover where Dick Grayson had secured his finances because the accounts Bruce Wayne knew about were untouched and the younger man had not made large withdrawals to suggest the creation of a different account foreign or otherwise. Bruce would have left this alone, but his troublesome child hadn’t been seen since Wally’s funeral, where Barry reported seeing him but not speaking with him. Nightwing hadn’t even attended Kid Flash’s memorial, which Bruce suspected had more to do with him than anything else. Again, Batman wondered what he did to piss Nightwing off so thoroughly._ _ _ _ _ _

______The computer beeped as it reported no bank accounts with yet another common alias Dick used. He clenched his fist in frustration. This was getting him nowhere. He dismissed the search box and switched to writing code. He would create a program to alert him to any news reports or other electronic information concerning Dick. If his son were here, there would be yelling about Bruce being overprotective. If Dick didn’t want his father disregarding his privacy, then he shouldn’t disappear._ _ _ _ _ _

______The soft sound of the doors from behind the clock opening alerted Batman to Tim’s arrival. Tim was another problem that Bruce did not know how to handle. Something was clearly bothering the teenager, but he refused to admit it. Bruce was at a lost. Dick took some coaxing but would always eventually talk to Bruce. Jason had felt. Loudly. Bruce never wondered where he stood with his youngest because he had never been afraid to protest, complain, or otherwise make his feelings known. The father wondered if he would ever be able to think about Jason without the sharp stabs in his heart. Tim, on the other hand, was more like Bruce. He simply didn’t open up, and Bruce didn’t know how to help him._ _ _ _ _ _

______Bruce shelved his concerns regarding his children and turned to face his current partner. Tim was standing next to him, scuffing the top of his shoe along the floor. A nervous habit that had been trained out of Robin, but Tim still exhibited. Tim focused on the computer screen. Bruce minimized that and turned to the young man at his side._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Is something wrong Tim?” Bruce asked._ _ _ _ _ _

______Tim’s eyes flicked from the computer screen to Bruce. “No, I –“ Tim shifted his weight. “I mean, why don’t you just talk to him?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Bruce sighed. “Dick doesn’t want to talk to me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“But why?” Something Bruce could not identify flashed in Tim’s eyes, but it was gone quickly, and the teen directed his gaze to the ground._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Go suit up.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Bruce ignored the teenager’s sigh in response. Batman wondered if he was doomed to fail all three of his partners._ _ _ _ _ _

______The police scanner reported multiple drug-related gunshots. Whatever was bothering Tim would have to wait, Batman and Robin were needed._ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and edited some things in the first few chapters. Nothing super important, I just cleaned up some dialogue a bit.  
> I love Tiny Tim. Expect a chapter from his perspective soon.  
> Also, Did y'all figure out why Batman can't find any of Dick's money? *Hint* Think less like a billionaire and more like a circus kid.  
> I write fanfiction for a love of the characters and to improve my writing, so if anyone is interested in Beta work let me know. Thanks!


	6. Chapter 5: Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dick tries to out fly his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **This chapter takes a turn towards darker thoughts.  
> **  
>  Dick struggles with suicidal idealization in this chapter. If that is a trigger for you, please do not read. 
> 
>  
> 
> **This is not going to be a suicide attempt fic. This is going to be a recovery fic. This is going to be about the journey it can take when you don't like yourself/hate yourself to becoming whole.**
> 
>  
> 
> **A few more chapters and Dick is going to begin to get the help he needs.**

Nightwing perched precariously on the head of a gargoyle at Bludhaven’s Cathedral of St. Eustace. The cathedral was the tallest building in this part of town, built by the Catholic church per request of the poor immigrants longing for a place of worship. Nightwing was aware that the church fed the homeless on Fridays, and Father Julian and old Mrs. O’Donnell did their best to look after the youth in the area. He was also aware that Father Michael had been removed from the post the year prior with no explanation. A little detective work showed that there were less than savory reasons for the sudden eviction, so the vigilante made it a point to watch the clergy and others around the children of the neighborhood. 

However, this was not the reason the vigilante was currently balanced on the smooth head of a grotesque gargoyle in the early hours of the morning. The cathedral was the tallest building in this part of town. Nightwing settled here, as he often ended nightly patrols, for one last look around his city. 

As for why, he was perched precariously on the smooth surface instead of tucked safely next to the statue, well, that was something he was trying to avoid thinking about. It was reckless. Unnecessarily reckless. 

But Dick Grayson was feeling reckless. 

He was trying not to think about why. 

A gust of wind forced him to rebalance or topple over. He adjusted his weight, balancing on the ball of his left foot. 

It was easy to imagine falling and not shooting his grapple. 

The last Flying Grayson falls. It was poetic, bringing his life full circle.

His memory flashed to his parents broken bodies. His mother’s leg bent at impossible angles, blood pooling in her dark hair and underneath her pale skin. His father’s darker face frozen in fear, permanently etched on his face in death. His neck snapped to the side.

Dick should have fallen with them, would have if the ropes had lasted for another thirty seconds. He would have died a boy wonder. Not lived to become a failure. A disappointment. Worthless.

The sound of gun shots to the south pulled the young man from his thoughts. Nightwing jumped off the gargoyle; he summersaulted twice because he could. He let himself freefall for the thrill before shooting his grapple and heading towards the Narrows. 

When the vigilante reached the area, the gunmen were gone, and a 24-hour convenience store clerk, appearing to be in his thirties, was on the ground with a gunshot wound in his torso. Nightwing immediately dropped down next to the blond haired, dark-eyed man and called for an ambulance on his burner phone. He pulled out gauze from his belt and applied pressure. 

The man gasped. His pale face and short breaths alerted the hero to the reality of shock settling in. 

“Hey, hey breathe,” Dick soothed, hoping the bullet hadn’t pierced anything vital. “You’re going to be okay. An ambulance is on the way.” 

The man was still grasping at breath. His eyes revealed his fear. 

“Breathe with me,” Nightwing instructed as he drew in a deep breath. “In.” He released the air. “Out.” 

The victim followed the masked man’s instructions. 

“I’m Nightwing by the way.” 

“I know who you are,” the man wheezed. “Heard about you on the news.” 

Dick gave the man a disarming smile. “I’m glad to know my reputation proceeds me, though you probably shouldn’t believe everything you hear on channel 5.” 

The blond on the ground laughed, then winced. “Don’t make me laugh. Hurts.” 

“Sorry, big guy. Just stay-“ Nightwing’s calm statement turned into a gasp of pain. Fire blazed across his upper arm. 

“Idiot,” Dick cursed under his breath as he removed his escrima sticks and pivoted towards the direction of the shot. Another shot went wide but helped the black-haired man to locate the shooter. Weaving, Nightwing headed for the shooter, who panicked and tried to empty his clip into the vigilante. The shots went wide; the man was clearly an amateur. Nightwing swung one of his sticks at the base of the man’s skull. The shooter fell to the ground unconscious. 

Without waiting to check for identification, the vigilante shot his grapple up to the roof, so he could case the area and make sure the shooters were gone. Which he should have done in the first place. Rookie mistake. He was such an idiot. Boy, was he glad Batman wasn’t currently speaking to Nightwing. He’d never live this down. 

After checking the surrounding area, twice, the hero dropped back to ground level. The ambulance had arrived and were treating the man who was shot, which meant the police weren’t too far behind. Nightwing squatted down and examined the shooter. He grabbed the gun, emptied the remaining bullets, and tossed it aside. Picking up the man’s hand, the masked man noticed the red flame tattoo on his right index finger. An initiate of the Flares. Nightwing patted the man down and found a plastic bag full of purple powder in one of the man’s pockets.

“What’s this?” He hummed aloud. He grabbed some tweezers and a tube from his utility belt, placing a small amount of the substance carefully into a pouch to be analyzed later. Red and blue lights flickered in the alleyway. Right. Time to head home. 

Home for the time being was the warehouse where Roy found him. Dick would move safe houses by the end of the week, just in case B started feeling parental. At all costs, the acrobat was determined to avoid a conversation with his father, going as far as not to touch any of the money Bruce Wayne had placed in trust funds and other secret accounts. Without a financial trail, his overprotective guardian would have a tougher time locating his civilian identity.

For all his strengths, Brucie failed to realize that one could survive without access to unlimited funding. It didn’t take that much money to survive. The young man had cash, of course, stockpiling it over the last few months, but he had never made a withdrawal large enough to make even the paranoid billionaire suspicious. One didn’t need to be a billionaire to be a hero, and Dick certainly didn’t need the amount of money Bruce had stockpiled for his ward to survive. 

Batman, undoubtedly, knew Nightwing returned to Bludhaven, yet the original solo vigilante wouldn’t enter another’s city without reason. Bruce Wayne would, which is why Dick Grayson needed to stay hidden – or at least until his guardian discovered the career path his ward had chosen. That would tick his father figure off enough that the man wouldn’t storm down Dick’s apartments in an effort to _care_. 

The man cared too damn much. He needed to learn how to leave well enough alone. 

Joining the police force hadn’t been about pissing Bruce off, but it was an added benefit. 

In another week, his salary from police department started, and then he’d have more than enough to locate a more secure apartment. His eyes flashed to the clock that read 4:05 AM. He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. He would need to be up by seven to make it to the academy on time, and he still needed to stitch together his wound. 

Stripped of his costume, Dick pulled down his first aid kit with his uninjured arm and dumped alcohol onto the injury. He bit down on a hiss of pain and started prepared a needle. The laceration wasn’t too bad, just a graze, however it would still require stitches, and he’d have to make sure his shirt covered it tomorrow. He pressed the edges of the wound together and began sewing through skin. Fighting back the desire to shut his eyes to the pain, he finished the job relatively neatly. 

It was 4:30 before he finished and collapsed dead to the world on his couch. 

Dick woke up groggily, blinking his eyes into alertness. His reached for his phone and –

Jumped off the couch, cursing he rushed to the bathroom with his phone pressed to his ear. 

“Come on, Walls. Pick up,” he spoke, stripping out of his sweatpants and turning on the shower. 

“I’m sorry but your call cannot be completed as dialed.” 

The phone clattered to the floor, followed shortly by the man who had been holding it. 

Wally was dead. 

Wally couldn’t save Dick from being late because Dick had killed him. 

_Murderer._

The broken man sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, his back pressed against the makeshift shower. He wrapped his arms around his legs. He didn’t deserve to be alive. 

People who murder their best friend don’t deserve to be alive. 

He was nothing but a miserable failure. He had to remove himself from the team, from Batman. No one should be infected by his presence. 

Because Dick Grayson was a disease. Being close to Dick got people killed. Jason. Wally. Both were his fault. He wasn’t there. Wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t smart enough. Wasn’t good enough. Wasn’t worth anything. 

The darkness threatened to consume him. He wanted to let it. The young man was tired, numb, and didn’t know why he kept trying anymore. The world would be better off without him.

But _Robin_ couldn’t quit. Robin had a mission, had made a promise. Robin kept Dick alive, even if his family colors had been buried underneath blue and black. The man didn’t deserve to wear his family colors anymore.

Dick wanted to cry. Robin pushed off the floor. There was a world to save. 

 

“Grayson, you’re late.” Officer Park called as soon as Dick joined his fellow classmates on the training field. 

“I know, ma’am,” Dick offered her one of his winning smiles. “I was helping a few little old ladies cross the street.” 

The head of the Bludhaven Police Academy did not appear amused. “You’ve earned yourself an extra two-mile run, which you will complete now. After you finish, you will do the full morning workout routine, then you may join us in the classroom. Any classwork missed, you’ll stay late to finish. Is that understood?” 

“Perfectly,” he replied still smiling. 

Officer Park glared at him. “Don’t let it happen again.” 

Dick nodded and left to start his run around the academy perimeter. 

The rookie cop enjoyed the basic calisthenics. A two-mile punishment run was nothing compared to the workout punishments Batman had imposed. The problem, though, was the ease of the run gave Dick time to get lost in his head, which he was dodging as often as possible. 

The long-sleeved shirt he had donned to conceal his injury caused sweat to build in the July heat. The stitches itched like crazy. He focused on the itching, the way the skin felt under the sweat, the need to scratch. 

It wasn’t enough. 

An image of his body with his parents, broken and bloody flashed across his mind. 

He pumped harder, tried to force the air from his brain, so he couldn’t think.

Dick didn’t want to die. He didn’t.

But he didn’t want to live either.

He wasn’t suicidal though. _He wasn’t._

He would not take his own life. He _couldn’t._ He didn’t want to kill himself; he just didn’t want to be alive. 

It was an important distinction. 

One he wasn’t sure Bruce or the team would appreciate. He didn’t tell them because he didn’t want them to worry. There was nothing to worry about. Dick would survive this.

Dick always survived. 

No matter what he wanted. 

Exhaustion creeping up on him, Dick stumbled without breaking stride. He forced himself to think about the purple substance. It seemed to be a new drug. News reports hadn’t noticed the drug yet, but that was unsurprising. It was Bludhaven. The news didn’t have time to report on every sinister thing. More importantly, it was new to Nightwing, which meant it was new to Bludhaven. There was a chance the costumed vigilante could prevent the new drug before it gained a foothold. 

He’d need to analyze the drug. The downside of refusing to live off daddy’s coattails was that he didn’t have easy access to a lab anymore, which meant breaking and entering a lab tonight. Oh. Joy. He could already see the channel five coverage. 

_Costumed Menace breaks into lab. Do you want a thief protecting the city?_

Finishing his run, he began the rest of the morning routines. White blinding pain shot across his eyesight when he began the push-ups. He focused on the throbbing, forcing the meditation techniques that came to his mind so quickly aside. Pain was so much better than his other thoughts. 

By the time he finished the morning workout, headed to the locker room to shower and change, and arrived into the actual classroom, the class were going over police scanner codes. 

_Hallelujah._

Dick had these memorized at the age of 9. The truth was Nightwing could have aced the entire police academy with both his hands tied behind his back (which he’d done with Batman), but college dropout Dick Grayson couldn’t. But that didn’t mean the young man couldn’t sneak in some shuteye while Officer Park droned on. 

A loud thump woke Dick up. He blinked a few times before awareness started to permeate his brain. Officer Park with her black hair tied behind her face and her eyes narrowed at him. One finger was on the book that had been slammed onto Dick’s table. A quick glance told him that the rest of the class had been dismissed. 

_Great._

“Grayson, you will not leave this room until you have the entirety of this book memorized. And if you fall asleep in my class again, it’ll be more than two miles. Am I understood?”

Dick smiled at her, “Perfectly.” 

He wondered how long he would have to stay to make it believable. 

In the end, Dick lasted less than an hour. He was considered a prodigy as a child, after all. 

The head of the academy graded his exam and grunted, reminding the young man of his mentor. 

“You’re smarter than you want others to believe,” she said. “Don’t throw your potential away.” 

It was probably the nicest thing the senior officer had said to him, which also reminded Dick of his guardian. 

“I don’t intend to,” he replied. 

The Asian woman nodded. “Good. Don’t be late again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to the map of Bludhaven, St. Eustace is a church in Bludhaven. I couldn't find any pictures of it specifically, so I took liberties. Please let me know if you are aware of a picture I missed. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who gave kudos or reviewed. I love reading and responding to reviews!
> 
> Next up is the chapter that put this fic in my mind, and it will be told through the perspective of 13-year-old Timothy Drake!


	7. Chapter 6: Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tim Drake is a good detective.

Most kids viewed their parents as heroes until adolescence dimmed the shinning lights around mommy and daddy’s glow. Timothy Drake had never been most kids. He had never idolized his parents, partially because they were never there to idolize. More importantly, it was difficult to worship a fictional presence when a child grew up in Batman’s city. 

Tim Drake was unaware how much he venerated Batman until the night his admiration shattered.

_Batman was fallible._

Of course, Tim had known this. His predecessor’s death was proof that Batman could fail, except some subconscious part of Tim had always blamed _Robin_ for his own death. 

He took the job, knowing _Robin_ could fail. 

The teen had waited months for Batman to reappear. Every time he caught Dick after another sleepless night, awake at all hours, refusing to eat more than a few bites, Tim reminded himself: Batman would return. Batman would fix this. When Dick disappeared from the cave after a fight over _Alfred’s_ overprotectiveness, Tim reminded himself: Batman had to return soon. He’d fix this, and Tim wouldn’t have a curl of anxiety in his stomach every time an overly exhausted Nightwing left on a mission. 

Except. 

Batman had returned. 

He hadn’t fixed it. 

He had made it worse. 

The new Robin still hadn’t discovered the cause of the latest fight between Batman and Nightwing, nor did he understand what was going through Dick’s mind. 

Abandoning the team? Leaving Gotham? 

Something was wrong. 

And it was Robin’s job to succeed where Batman failed. 

Leaning against the headboard of his bed, he pulled up his latest case notes on his computer.

_June 20_

_Reach Invasion/Light defeated._

_Wallace Rudolph West aka Kid Flash perished. (cause of death: speedforce?)_

_Justice League returned._

_Nightwing and Batman fought. (cause unknown)_

_Nightwing left Gotham._

_June 21_

_Bruce Wayne sulked. (Do not say that to his face, however accurate.)_

_Bruce Wayne tried to comfort (was that what that was?) Tim Drake.  
June 22_

_Bruce Wayne discovered Dick Grayson dropped out of college during the invasion._

_Tim Drake bared a tactical retreat from the stony silence in the manor._

_June 23_

_Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth no longer speaking. (Avoid Wayne Manor when possible.)_

_June 24_

_Wally West’s Funeral – Dick Grayson, Artemis Crock, Barry Allen, Roy Harper, Jade Nguyen (Harper?), Lian Harper – in attendance._

_June 25_

_Article in Bludhaven Gazette: Nightwing Saves Five Orphans from Burning Building_

_June 27_

_Kid Flash’s Memorial – Nightwing absent. Batman, Robin, Flash, Black Canary, Red Tornado, Red Arrow, and the YJ team in attendance._

_Red Arrow appeared angry. (He’s always angry.)_

_Article in Bludhaven Times: Caped Crusader Captures Crooked Cop_

_June 28_

_Robin overheard Superboy and Aqualad discussing concern regarding Nightwing’s absence. Conclusion of conversation: If Nightwing wasn’t seen by the end of the week, one of them would check on him._

_July 1_

_Batman created coding program to search for Dick Grayson._

_July 2_

_Richard John Grayson listed as new cadet at the Bludhaven Police Academy._

_July 3_

_Bruce Wayne began refusing to talk about his ward._

_Batman displayed anger when discussions regarding Nightwing surfaced._

_Tim Drake stopped questioning Bruce._

_July 4_

_Batman allowed the team to begin operating out of the Watchtower. (Was this a ploy to see Nightwing?)_

_Nightwing given a temporary leave of absence from the team. (Duration: unspecified)_

_Robin questioned Aqualad. Aqualad: “It is best that Nightwing is allowed the rest he needs. He has promised to contact the team if he experiences trouble.” (Right, because Nightwing was known for asking for help.)_

_July 5_

_Article in Bludhaven Enquirer: Masked Men in the Night: Heroes or Terrors?_

_July 7_

_Article in Bludhaven Gazette: New Drug on Our Streets_

_Article in Bludhaven Enquirer: Talk to Your Kids About Smash Before It’s Too Late_

_Article in Bludhaven Times: Seven Arrested in Drug Bust, City Cop Thanks Nightwing._

_(Nightwing was clearly resting.)_

While there were certain things Tim could deduce from the notes, he did not understand the original argument that seemed to cause everything else to spiral out of control. Batman deleted the cave footage from the night he returned, and Bruce was tightlipped regarding the argument. His mentor was currently sulking over Dick’s career choice, undoubtedly upset regarding the _equipment_ Dick would be carrying now, but that hadn’t been the cause. 

He blinked sleepily. He should go to bed soon, but it was summer and Tim needed an answer. 

He scrolled back to the top of the document. Under June 20, he wrote:

_Nightwing and Batman showing signs of exhaustion? (Please tell me this entire fight wasn’t because someone forgot their nap.)_

On his bedside table, his phone buzzed with a message from Dick. 

_Hey Timmy, surviving big and grumpy?_

He fired back a response. 

_It’d be easier with you here._

_Aw, sorry kiddo. ☹_

Tim neglected to respond, but he was staring at the time stamps. He scrolled up through his messages from Dick since June 20. 

No. No freaking way. 

He hastily recorded the time stamps of the messages and did a few calculations. 

That _bastard._

Gotham Academy’s formal star mathlete had used an algorithm to remind him to text the newest Robin. Why? Was this some misplaced guilt about leaving Tim alone with Bruce? Was Tim that forgettable that Dick needed a series of equations to remind him about the teenager? 

Frustrated, Tim slammed his laptop shut and set it on the floor next to his bed. He was done with deductions; tomorrow he was going straight to the source. 

 

The next morning (afternoon), Tim shot a text to his mentor, explaining that his parents’ employees were starting to become suspicious of his absences, and he needed to take a day or two to stay at home and allay concerns. (Robin wasn’t convinced Batman would notice his absence either way.) He left a note on the kitchen counter for Ms. Rosa that he was spending the night at a friend’s house. (Tim knew she would not notice.) Packing essentials in his backpack, he hired a driver outside of his parents employ to take him to Bludhaven.

Arriving in Bludhaven, Tim headed for the rooftops. He climbed to the top of a tall apartment building close to where the article in _The Bludhaven Times_ had reported yesterday’s drug bust. Grabbing his camera, the newest Robin took several shots of the city skyline, before settling into watch the city. 

A little after dusk, Tim snuck into an abandoned apartment complex and changed into his Robin uniform. He stuffed his normal clothes into his backpack and secured it onto his back. Robin did not expect to fight tonight. His main goal was to find Nightwing and follow him to his apartment. 

Several hours passed with no sign of Nightwing. Dick would have been restless and antsy stuck in a stakeout for hours with no movement, but Tim was better at waiting. Nightwing would pass by eventually. 

He grabbed his camera again and zoomed out to catch a few night shots. Bludhaven had a different glow than Gotham. There was less fog in the air, making the city appear darker and brighter simultaneously. It’s been a while since he had an opportunity to practice contrast shots. 

Through the camera’s lens, Tim saw a shadow move a few buildings over. 

_Bingo._

The teenager flew close enough to follow Nightwing but kept out of his sight, which wasn’t too difficult considering the older vigilante was currently getting his behind handed to him. One of the thugs threw Nightwing into the wall way too easily. 

_What are you doing, Dick?_

Robin almost swooped down to help, but Nightwing dropped a smoke pellet, and the next thing the younger hero knew three of the five thugs had dropped to the floor unconscious. 

A fourth thug charged Nightwing, and his head met with one of the masked man’s escrima sticks. While the last crook took off running, Nightwing threw a batarang (wingding, he was calling his wingdings) at the man’s feet. The man stumbled and fell to the ground his legs tied together. 

Dick hoisted the man up, slamming his back against the alley wall. Tim wasn’t close enough to hear the conversation, but he’s guessing the man didn’t give Dick the information he needed because Dick brought up his escrima stick and allowed the electricity to spark in front of him. Robin turned his gaze fractionally; Tim still didn’t enjoy the intimidation piece of their lives. He was glad he wasn’t close enough to hear their exchange. 

Wrapping up with the criminal, Nightwing called the police and shot a grapple towards the rooftops. Hopefully, he’d be heading home soon, and Tim would be able to talk to Dick. He followed the older man towards the east and – 

_He’s living in a warehouse. Really, Dick?_

Tim knew if he tried to pull something like this, he’d be getting a lecture about safety and security _…and staying alive._

Robin waited until he was absolutely positive the older hero was staying in that warehouse, before dropping into another abandoned building with needles and beer bottles littering the floor. He tried not to think too much about that as he found a relatively clean corner to change back into his normal clothing. 

On the way towards the door of the warehouse, Tim realized he forgot to think about what he would say to Dick. His secondary mentor was always the one filling silences and getting people to talk. Another example of Timothy Drake failing as Robin. He couldn’t be the light to Batman’s darkness because Tim was shy, quiet, alone. 

Maybe Dick would just voluntarily share on his own. _Right,_ Tim snorted, _because he’s been so willing to share recently._

__Raising his left hand, the teenager knocked on the door and waited…and waited. Tim knocked again. Still no answer. He was about to pick the lock when the door flew open._ _

__“Tim?” Dick blinked at him, confusion evident on his face. “What are you doing here?” Dick’s face paled as he looked around the shadows. “Are you hurt? Is Bruce hurt? Someone on the team?”_ _

__“Relax,” he said, pushing his way inside. “It’s just-”_ _

__His train of thought disintegrated as he took in the mess of Dick’s living quarters. Various cans of Red Bull and Monster littered the floor of the space, unwashed cups of coffee spread around the room (at least one cup appeared to be growing mold), coffee grounds and cereal crumbs attracted ants in the far corner, a few ants were drowning in milk in a dirty red bowl on the floor – and where those mice droppings?_ _

__“Uh, yeah, sorry,” Dick spoke sheepishly, gazing around the space, and rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t expecting guests.”_ _

__Tim realized his mouth was left open in surprise, and he snapped it shut._ _

__“What? Why?” Tim sputtered. Sure, Tim had never been the neatest, but Dick’s room had always been clean at the manor._ _

_Alfred._

__Dick guided him towards the nasty pea green couch covered in unidentifiable stains and expected him to sit on it. No. He was fine standing._ _

His self-proclaimed older brother sighed and dropped onto the couch. (He poorly hid his wince of pain.) His laptop left opened on the empty crate that was functioning as an end table displayed a chemical analysis. Newspapers and papers with case notes were scattered around the couch. A cockroach crawled across a copy of _The Bludhaven Gazette._

__“Timmy, why are you here?”_ _

__The young teenager refocused his attention from the floor and back to Dick’s face. The bags under his eyes had grown to look like the man had two large black eyes, which Tim realized he couldn’t be sure that Dick didn’t, considering what he witnessed earlier. His friend’s face managed to look even slimmer than it did the last time Tim had seen the older man, and Alfred had already been concerned with Dick’s waning appearance._ _

__There are so many questions, thoughts, and emotions swirling in Tim’s mind. He can’t decipher how to express himself. Words spill out of his mouth. He’s not sure they’re the right words._ _

__“I thought you were taking a break.”_ _

__Dick brought a hand up towards his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “From the team. I can’t just ignore the city.”_ _

__“Are you okay?” It’s a dumb question. Dick wasn’t okay. He would never admit it._ _

__Robin did not squawk when Nightwing grabbed his wrist and yanked him into an embrace on the couch. The acrobat didn’t even bother hiding the groan of pain from the action. (Undoubtedly, there was bruising from the vigilante’s earlier collision with the wall.)_ _

__“I’m fine, Timmers. Did you really come all this way to check on me?” Dick said and didn’t let go. The young teen pushed his pseudo-brother off him and resigned himself to sitting on the germ-infested couch. Tim would need to burn these clothes now._ _

A buzz from Dick’s computer saved Tim from responding, but his earlier ire returned when he noticed the notification on the screen: _Text Kaldur._

__“Do you have alerts for all of us?” Tim hissed, folding his arms across his chest_ _

__The older man dismissed the notification and looked at Tim for a solid minute._ _

__“I know you’ve heard rumors about what happened to me after Jason’s death,” Dick spoke slowly._ _

__Tim nodded in response, loosening his hostile stance._ _

__“Kaldur asked me to check-in regularly. I set the reminder, so I don’t forget.”_ _

__The newest detective was not sure he believed Dick, but the man was not exhibiting any of the signs Robin was taught to look for when a subject lied._ _

__“And mine?”_ _

__Dick laughed humorlessly. “You noticed? I didn’t want you to think it was somehow your fault I left. I figured you’d noticed a pattern pretty quickly, so I tried to make it look more…spontaneous.”_ _

__Tim ignored the many questions that statement stirred in him to focus on his most pressing concern._ _

__“Why did you leave?”_ _

__The older man shifted his gaze away from the younger. Tim knew the next words would be a lie._ _

__“I just needed space to grieve on my own.”_ _

__“But what happened with Batman?” Tim pressed._ _

__Dick stiffened minutely. If Robin hadn’t been trained by the Bat, he would never have noticed. But he had been. There’s something the young detective was missing._ _

__The team leader offered him a tragically fake smile. “Bruce and I fight. You know that. And I’m sure B will get off his high horse soon and apologize.”_ _

__There’s something in between the lines that Tim could not place. Dick was lying (poorly) that much was obvious, but there had to be something Robin was missing._ _

__A memory came to mind._ _

_Batman was not Robin’s father, or more precisely, he wasn’t this Robin’s father. However, Batman had made it clear in no uncertain terms that Robin needed to keep his grades up or he would forfeit the mantle._

__

_It wasn’t like Tim struggled in school. In all honestly, he probably should have skipped multiple grades, but that required parental involvement. Tim shelved his parent issues to the back of his mind and stared at the notice in front of him._

_He had forgotten about his midterm English assignment. Robin training had taken up so much time, and Tim was tired all the time now. Honestly, he could do the assignment, but still there was the damning evidence in his hand._

_Mr. and Mrs. Drake,_

_I regret to inform you that Timothy is in danger of failing. If his midterm project on The Outsiders is not turned in by the end of the week, he will not pass this semester._

_Sincerely,_  
_Mr. Johnson_

_Dick found him, staring at the paper in the den of Wayne Manor._

_“What’cha got there, Timmy?” Dick asked curiously._

_Tim didn’t respond, so the man pried it out of his hands._

_Dick read the note and crouched in front of the timid teen._

_“Tim, take this home. Keep the note out of the manor. I’ll make sure B doesn’t find out, okay?”_

_“He al- always knows,” Tim sputtered._

_Dick smiled, warm, friendly, and bright. “I’ll bet you a month worth of washing the Batmobile that I can guarantee he won’t notice.”_

_Robin knew he never should bet against Nightwing. Still. Batman_ not _notice. This was a sucker’s bet._

_Tim nodded and returned to his own home, disposing of the note._

_That night on patrol Nightwing had done something so stupid and reckless that Robin still didn’t know how the man hadn’t been riddled with bullets._

_Currently, Nightwing and Batman were fighting about said stupid and reckless stunt._

_“Stop treating me like a child!”_

_Batman yelled, “Then don’t create childish cries for attention.”_

_“It wasn’t a cry for attention,” Dick huffed._ \ 

_“Then what was that?” The older man growled. “You expect me to believe you jumped in front of gunshots because you thought it was a good idea.”_

_The original Robin glared at his mentor. “I had it covered.”_

_The elder vigilante turned and walked away from his original protégé, stewing in anger. Truth was Dick hadn’t had it covered. In fact, Batman dropped down to collect his wayward partner, leaving Robin exposed, which had started this entire argument as soon as they returned to the cave._

_Dick caught Tim’s eye and…winked._

_What._

_When Batman turned back to his partner, Nightwing’s expression returned to being darkened by anger._

_The two continued their pointless argument. Tired of their antics, Robin headed for the shower._

_Later as Tim was watching Netflix on his laptop in his guest bedroom at Wayne Manor. Dick stopped in, settled next to Tim on the bed, and ruffled his hair._

_“The first time is free,” Dick said with a smile that belied the earlier argument._

_Tim blinked. “What?”_

_“I know Robin can be a demanding gig, so I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” Dick’s voice dropped to a mock-whisper. “If you need Bruce not to notice something, make Batman angry.”_

_“What.”_

_Dick laughed and ruffled Tim’s hair again. “You know what I mean, Tim.”_

_No, Tim didn’t know what he meant, but Dick didn’t seem like he was going to explain further. Instead, he pulled the teen into an awkward cuddle and frowned at the laptop._

_“A documentary on agriculture?” The young adult pulled a face. “Timmy, no. Just no. It’s late. We just pulled one over on Batman. We need cartoons.”_

_“It might come up on a case,” he protested weakly._

_The older man ignored him completely as he changed the video to Phineas and Ferb. Tim sighed, resigned to a cartoon marathon tonight._

_“Oh, and Timmy,” Dick hummed with too much joy in his voice. “School’s important. You can’t throw away your academics for Robin. I’ll be keeping an eye on your grades from now on.”_

_Tim dropped his face into his hands. For all Nightwing complained about Bruce and Batman’s overprotectiveness, Dick was ten times worse._

_His brother laughed at him._

_In the end, Tim hadn’t failed the class. Nightwing had forced him into doing extra credit. If his grades dropped even a single percentile, Dick knew. But Bruce had never found out, and Tim washed the Batmobile._

It clicked into place. 

__“You – You picked the fight with Batman.” Tim stammered._ _

__Cold fear flashed in Dick’s eyes, and his face paled._ _

__“You can’t-” the elder faltered, “You can’t tell Bruce.”_ _

The young detective looked at the man next to him. This was not Dick Grayson. Dick Grayson didn’t falter in his speech. He didn’t pale from the idea of talking to his mentor. The first young partner challenged Batman without fear. _Daily._

__Something was very wrong._ _

__Dick grabbed Tim’s wrists and forced the third Robin to look at him. The panic had subsided, but it didn’t matter. Tim had seen it._ _

__“Tim, Bruce wouldn’t understand. I just need time, okay?” The words flew out of the acrobat’s mouth. “I promise I’ll talk to him. Just give me some time to get my head on straight.”_ _

__Tim looked down at the hands clutching his wrist, and Dick released his grip. Steel blue eyes met cobalt eyes. The man was desperate. Tim didn’t understand. But he trusted Dick._ _

__“Okay, I won’t tell him.”_ _

__The man relaxed onto the couch, and Tim hoped he hadn’t made a huge mistake._ _

__

__The newest Robin returned to Wayne Manor, determined to set things right with his mentor. Tim hadn’t realized it, but he had placed all the blame for the argument on Batman. (Alfred, no doubt, had as well.) Batman’s newest protégé needed to make amends for his error in judgment… without revealing what he had learned._ _

__After greeting Alfred at the door, he headed down to the cave. Descending the stairs, he paused when he heard voices._ _

__“Flash, you have no guarantee this will work,” Batman growled. “It is too dangerous.”_ _

__“Tell me if this was Dick, you wouldn’t do it,” Flash demanded._ _

__“Names,” hissed Batman. “And Impulse? You’ll risk his life – I have to go. Do not do something you’ll regret.”_ _

__Bruce disconnected the call before the Fastest Man Alive could respond._ _

__“Robin,” he called._ _

__Tim walked into the room._ _

__“What was that about?” He asked._ _

__Batman turned his chair to face his newest partner. “League business.”_ _

__Normally, Tim would nod and drop it._ _

__But._ _

__Batman was fallible._ _

__Dick Grayson wasn’t okay._ _

__And._ _

__Timothy Drake was Robin.__

__

__It was time he started acting like it._ _

__Making his own deductions, he spoke calmly and confidently, “Barry doesn’t think Wally is dead. There’s a chance he’s trapped in the speedforce.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my favorite chapter to write. I hope I did Tim justice. I was trying to show the roller coaster emotions of being a young teenager, the reality of having your childhood heroes crushed, Tim's insecurity, and his natural genius and deductive reasoning. Tell me how I did!


	8. Chapter 7: Roy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Roy tries not to cuss in front of his daughter, but Dick makes it very difficult.

Roy Harper collapsed onto the bottom portion of his bed, not bothering with the covers in the mid-July heat but tugging a pillow down for his head. Lian was asleep. Finally. Roy didn’t know how long this respite would last, but he planned on sleeping as long as his daughter let him. 

He had just closed his eyes when his burner phone rang. Groaning, he reached for the phone, Artemis and Jade better not be in trouble. They were supposed to be on some sort of sister vacation – which should have meant pedicures, relaxing, and whatever females did when men weren’t around. But, in reality, meant violence.

Explosions were Jade’s way of showing she cared. 

“Hullo,” he mumbled. 

“Is this Mr. Roy Harper?” A calm voice spoke through the phone. 

Terror gripped him. There were six – five. There were five people with this phone number. 

Morphing his fear into anger, he growled, “Who wants to know?” 

“Sir, this is the Bludhaven Police Department, and I am trying to reach a Mr. Roy Harper. Is that you?” 

His veins turned to ice.

Dick.

Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead. He should have called the manor. He never should have left the idiot by himself. He knew Dick wasn’t okay. 

“Sir?” The voice asked when Roy didn’t respond. 

“Yeah,” he forced the words out, mouth going dry. “This is Roy Harper.” 

“This is Officer Ramirez with the Bludhaven Police Department. Richard Grayson collapsed at the academy this morning. He’s going to need a ride home.”

“What?” Nothing in that statement made sense. 

“He’s okay. We’re pretty sure it’s just exhaustion. These young kids always try to overdo it. He’s resting in medical now, but you understand we can’t allow him to drive his bike home. We can’t allow him to leave here alone either. Liability issues, you understand.” 

Roy couldn’t tell if it’s the lack of sleep that’s making this conversation so hard to follow or if it didn’t make any sense to begin with. Why would they call him?

“Sir, you are Roy Harper, correct?” Officer Ramirez asked. 

And apparently, he said the last part of that aloud. Great. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “Sorry, I just put my daughter down for a nap.” 

The officer’s voice filled with humor. “Blessed is the man whose children sleep. Well, you are listed as Richard Grayson’s emergency contact, and like I said, we cannot let him leave here unattended. If you’re unavailable, is there someone else we should contact?” 

“No, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He replied, hanging up the phone and pulling on his shoes. 

Roy should just call the manor and let the wayward bird’s family deal with this. But. He needed to make sure the idiot wasn’t dead or almost dead or trying to die. Or any other stupid reaction to Wally’s death because Dick was a moron.

 

As soon as the clone could ended up being almost two hours. He had to pack all of Lian’s things, call Kaldur and ask for a guest override with the Zeta beams, so Lian could travel with him to the ‘Haven, and rent a car once they were there to hold the three of them. Next time he was calling Alfred, and Dick could clean up his own mess. They were too old for Dick to still be pulling this crap. 

Walking into the building, he saw Dick slouching in a chair with his arm’s crossed. The man looked like a sullen teenager. Roy paused. The acrobat was nineteen, which meant he was a surly teenager, and the new father didn’t have the patience to deal with a teenager and an infant. 

Lian fussed in his arms; he shifted her weight in his arms, and she quieted. He should be at home in Star City, caring for his daughter, not bailing Dick out of some sort of trouble. 

“What happened?” He growled.

The older teenager stiffened in his seat. There was no way that Batman’s original sidekick hadn’t noticed him as soon as he walked in the room. He’s not sure who Dick was putting on the act for.

A small Chinese woman approached him from a nearby office. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her police uniform was spotless. 

“Roy Harper, I presume?” She asked. 

“Yeah, is Dick in some sort of trouble?” 

The women blinked at him. “No.” Then she turned her attention to the man seated next to her. “But he will be if I see him again in the next 48 hours.” 

Rolling his eyes, Dick stood to his feet. “I told you. I’m fine.” 

“You collapsed on the obstacle course due to exhaustion. You will go home and rest or I will flunk you. Is that understood?” She snapped.

The sudden presence of a darker skinned man with a two Styrofoam cups distracted Roy from Dick’s answer. 

“I’m Officer Ramirez. We spoke on the phone. You look like you could use a cup of coffee.” The man said, offering one of the white cups to Roy. 

Lian tried to grab for it, and Roy quickly moved it out of her reach. She batted her arm against his chest to show her displeasure. 

Officer Ramirez chuckled. “Do you need me to hold the cup?” 

“No, I’m good. She gets the attitude from her mother. Don’t you?” He added, looking down at the precious gift he had been given. 

“Want,” she said reaching for his arm that held the coffee. 

“No, you don’t, princess. It’s yucky,” he smiled down at her. 

“Yucky,” she repeated, batting her fist against his chest. 

He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips. Jade threw fits when she didn’t get what she wanted as well, although Lian’s mother’s fits tended to hurt more. 

The sound drew the attention of the man he was here to collect. 

“Roy, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your daughter,” Dick said, smiling as he approached the pair. His earlier mood dissipating, but the grin didn’t hide just how terrible Dick looked. His face was pale, skin almost translucent. There were dark craters under his eyes, and his hair looked to have several weeks of oil accumulation. 

Right. Dick had passed out from exhaustion. That idiot. 

Lian turned her attention from the white cup to the man smiling in front of her. She reached out and grabbed a handful of Dick’s dark hair and pulled. 

Detaching himself from the infant’s grasp, Dick laughed, “She’s definitely yours.” 

Roy smirked. His daughter understood that Dick was a moron that had stirred her father’s ire. Or the sunlight caught the oil in his hair and Lian decided she wanted the shiny object. It was the former. His baby was a genius. 

Roy turned to the officers near him. “Is there anything I need to sign or are we good to go?” 

“No, you’re good,” the female officer told him. “Just make sure he actually rests.” 

“Oh, I will,” the redhead promised.

The clone buckled Lian into her car seat and handed her one of the toys he, thankfully, remembered to pack. Dick was already strapped into the passenger seat and began talking before Roy could situate himself in the driver’s seat. 

“I’m sorry for the trouble,” Dick started. “You can just drop me off at my place.” 

“Your place is a,” He growled, eyes flicking to his daughter smiling in the backseat. “A dump,” he finished. 

“I got a new apartment downtown,” Dick replied. “It’s cleaner.” 

Cleaner…was an incredibly low bar to set. Roy shifted into reverse and pulled out of the parking lot. 

“Wonderful. I can’t wait to see it,” he replied. 

“You can just drop me off, Roy. I know you need to get Lian home,” Dick said. 

“Right,” the redhead snorted. “And you’ll be a good little boy and go straight to sleep.” 

The ebony haired man’s eyes narrowed as he shifted to face the clone. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Evidence suggests otherwise,” Roy snapped. 

“Dammit,” Dick cursed. “Roy, I’m fine.” 

“Don’t curse in front of my daughter _Dick._ And you are not fine. You collapsed, idiot. Your eyes look hollow, and I didn’t think you could get thinner.” Roy yelled.  
Lian, clearly upset with the shouting, started crying in the backseat. 

“Great,” Roy muttered under his breath. “Shh, sweetie, it’s okay. Daddy just had to tell the idiot how stupid he was being.” 

Dick huffed next to him and crossed his arms but thankfully remained silent. Lian quieted but tears were still rolling down her cheeks. 

“Are you going to give me directions or am I just going to drive around Bludhaven for the next few hours while you nap in the car?” Roy hissed angrily. 

His passenger glared at him and reluctantly did as he was asked. 

 

Dick’s apartment was…cleaner. And that’s about all it was because there was nothing in it, save for a few newspapers scattered around the floor. 

“I just moved in,” Dick informed him. “I haven’t had time to get furniture yet.” 

Roy’s gaze flicked to the kitchen. “Let me guess. You haven’t had time to get food either.” 

Narrowing his eyes, Dick growled, “I’m fine, Roy.”

The older man decided to ignore the younger’s stupidity, lest he start cursing out his friend in front of his daughter. He shoved Lian into Dick’s hands. The aerialist struggled but caught the child, who immediately started grabbing for her daddy. 

“I’m going to get groceries. I expect both of you to be alive when I get back,” Roy said as he slammed the door on Dick’s reply. 

When Roy returned an hour and a half later with groceries and supplies, generously paid for by Ollie, the teenager was trying and failing to put a diaper on Roy’s daughter. Dick was currently trying to unstick two opposite ends that he had somehow managed to close around his arm instead of the child. 

“Give me that,” he said, grabbing the diaper out of Dick’s hands. “I thought you were supposed to be a genius.” 

“With computers,” his friend replied exasperatedly. “She peed on me.” 

Roy smirked. “That’s because she knows her daddy’s upset with you. Don’t you, baby girl?” The new father smiled at his daughter. He finished the diaper change and situated Lian on his hip. Dick was gaping at him. 

“What?” He grunted. 

Dick closed his gaping jaw and shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t realize you were the paternal type is all.” 

“I had enough practice with you two idi–,” The words died on his tongue.

The room fell into an awkward silence. 

Roy nudged his friend towards the bathroom. “Go shower while I cook dinner. Then you can explain your spectacular decision-making skills.”

Dinner was a quiet affair, besides Lian who enjoyed smashing her butternut squash baby food around instead of eating it. Dick almost fell asleep into his bowl of spaghetti multiple times, head nodding and jerking awake. 

After the younger vigilante finished half of his meal, Roy attempted to guide him towards the bedroom. 

“Alright, Boy Blunder, time for bed.”

Dick’s head jerked up. “No,” he said shaking his head. “There’s a drug shipment tonight.” 

“You’re in no condition to attempt a drug bust,” Roy barked. 

Leaving Lian on the living room floor, the clone followed the idiot into his bedroom, where there was a sleeping bag and a box. Dick walked to the box and pulled out his Nightwing costume. 

Roy ripped the outfit out of Dick’s hands. “Absolutely not. You’re going to get yourself killed.” 

Grabbing for his clothes, Dick’s face morphed into fury. “That’s always a risk. Get out of my way.” 

Roy dropped the uniform and placed his hands on his friend’s shoulders. “Dick, stop.” The younger man lifted blue eyes to meet his friend’s. “Dying isn’t going to bring Wally back.” 

The younger man shoved the redhead off and began suiting up. 

“You can either stay here, or I’ll knock you out,” Roy warned. 

Dick paused in his movements, clearly trying to assess how serious Roy was in his threat. “I can’t let these drugs hit the street.” 

Roy growled, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Fine. I’ll take care of it.” He shoved a finger in the stubborn moron’s face. “But you will stay here and watch my daughter. Is that clear?” 

Blue eyes dropped from the confrontation as the dark-haired man nodded. 

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are conflicting reports about exactly where exactly Star City is. It's been said that it was near Boston, shown on a map to be close to the midwest, but most commonly referred to being near Portland. I've used the most popular reference that it is in the Northwest, hence the extra travel for Roy and Lian.


	9. Chapter 8: Barbara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dick is lucky Barbara Gordon isn't an evil genius.

Barbara stared at the blank word document in front of her. The final paper for her early American literature class wasn’t due for a month, but she had the time now. Time was never a guarantee in her life, so she wanted to take advantage of this opportunity. Truthfully, she had no idea what to write about Anne Bradstreet. _I appreciate Bradstreet because her poems are straightforward and make sense_ was not exactly a thesis statement. 

The genius didn’t care for early American literature. It lacked the novels, fantasies, and epics of British literature, but the course was required, which meant she needed a thesis for Bradstreet. Maybe she could analyze the religious motifs used through feminist literary theory…. though that may be a bit of a stretch.

Barbara sighed, her eyes flicked towards the gap in her bookshelf. The Maltese Falcon was missing from its usually place. (The Maltese Falcon was quality American literature, and she’d rather be writing a paper on Hammett’s work than Bradstreet’s poetry.) Last week, she had lent the book to her follow Gothamite. 

_Artemis sat in one of the mismatched chairs at Barbara’s kitchen table. Her finger ran along the top of the mug as she stared into the green liquid as if it held the answers to her problems._

_“Lose an earning?” Barbara quipped as she sat across from her with her own mug of tea._

_The blonde blinked and looked up. “Just thinking,” she replied._

_One red eyebrow rose. “Care to elaborate?”_

_Artemis shook her head, sipping her tea._

_“Artemis.”_

_“I don’t want to ruin our time together.”_

_“Nonsense, I want to hear what’s going on with you.”_

_Setting her mug down, Artemis considered the redheaded woman. “I don’t think I know who I am anymore.”_

_Whatever Barbara was expecting, it wasn’t that._

_“You’re Artemis,” she sputtered helpfully._

_“I don’t,” she hesitated. “I don’t know who that is anymore.”_

_Barbara Gordon did not know how to reply to that. Despite her faults, which there were many, she always knew exactly who Barbara Gordon was and what her purpose was. She didn’t doubt herself. Ever. How did one respond to that?_

_Rising, the archer said, “Never mind. I should go.”_

_The commissioner’s daughter reached out a hand, halting her friend’s movements._

_“No, please explain,” she bade._

_The blonde folded much easier than expected; clearly, she needed to talk about this._

_“I became a hero because I didn’t want to be my dad. It wasn’t about saving people.” She raised her hand to halt Barbara’s interruption. “No, I mean I liked saving people, but I was always trying to prove myself. Prove I was as good as the guys. Prove that I wasn’t my father or my sister. And when I finally did prove myself, Wally and I left.” Artemis explained, looking down at the table instead of Barbara’s eyes. “I was no longer a hero. I was just Wally’s.”_

_Babs interrupted the other woman, “You were never just Wally’s.”_

_Artemis rolled her eyes, used to the redhead’s feminism. “No, but we left the team and tried to be normal.” She snorted. “I still have no idea what that means. Honestly, I think Wally couldn’t handle the worry after we realized we were in love.” She paused. Her grip on the mug tightened. She closed her eyes before continuing._

_“I went from trying to prove I wasn’t my father to college. I never found a place there, but I had Wally.” Artemis looked up and smiled, even as her dark eyes watered. “Wally loved college. Fast-paced, parties full of free food, and science. He’d go on and on and on about his science notes and classes.”_

_“But I, I never figured out what I was passionate about. I never declared a major. I was leaning towards business. It wasn’t something I loved.” She shrugged. “I figured Ollie’d give me a job though.”_

_“Then Dick needed help,” she laughed humorlessly. “Wally was so afraid for me. He was worried something would happen, but I think he mostly feared I’d remember how much I loved it.” A tear slipped down the archer’s face. “He was afraid of losing me, but I lost him.” She paused, eyes blinking back tears. “I miss him. I miss him so much. I don’t think I know who I am without him.” The vigilante looked into her feminist friend’s blue eyes. “And I know how horrible that sounds.”_

_Barbara reached out and grabbed her companion’s hand. She knew this was not the time to go on a rant about how her friend had never been defined by her relationship, but the feminist in her didn’t know how to offer verbal comfort that wasn’t a scathing diatribe against the patriarchy, so she held her tongue and her friend’s hand and offered what physical comfort she could._

_Glancing at the English novels she had haphazardly stacked on the table, inspiration struck._

_“Did I ever tell you why I am a computer science and English major?” Babs asked, withdrawing her hand and sitting back to look at the archer._

_“Because you’re a certified genius with too much time on her hands, and your dad would be suspicious if you majored in criminology,” the blonde responded, lightening the mood._

_Barbara smiled. “Please, I’ve had enough criminology with Batman.” She paused, unsure how to phrase this next part. “Did you know Jason wanted to be an English major?”_

_Heaviness returned to the atmosphere. Artemis shook her head, which was unsurprising the archer and speedster left the team right before Jason joined._

_Barbara felt her throat constrict. She wondered if she’d ever be able to talk about the late teenager without the pain that accompanied the memories. “Yeah, we both loved the library; we’d spend hours searching for books and discussing them.”_

_The college student closed her eyes and pushed the pain of Jason’s memory away. This wasn’t about her. This was about Artemis. She reopened her eyes and gazed at the older woman._

_“He wanted to be an English major and then maybe go to law school. It’s silly, but studying literature helps me feel close to him,” Babs informed the grieving woman._

_“I’m not going to become a science major for Walls. I love him - but,” Artemis began._

_Babs smiled. “Of course not. Wally wouldn’t want that for you. But it might be worth pursuing something that allows you to still feel connected to him.”_

_Barbara stood up and walked to her bookshelf. She pulled down her copy of The Maltese Falcon._

_Returning to the table, she said, “This was Jason’s favorite book. He said it was the best of the detective genre.” The two had disagreed about that. Hammett was good, but he was no Doyle or Christie._

_The redhead pushed the book across the table. “I want you to take this. Hopefully, it will remind you to find something that will allow you to grieve Wally and honor his memory.”_

_“You know I’m not actually going to read this, right?” Artemis asked skeptically._

_Rolling her eyes, Barbara replied, “It’s a symbol.”_

_Nodding in understanding, Artemis placed the book in her bag. “So,” the blonde asked, “why the computer science major?”_

_“Dick taught me how to hack.” Babs grinned. “I intend to be better than him and wipe that smug smile of his face.”_

_The archer snorted. “Have you two stopped your posturing and made out yet?”_

_Try as she might, Barbara couldn’t quite contain her blush. “It’s not like that. We’re just friends.”_

_“Says the woman who picked a major to show up her friend,” Artemis replied._

_Babs felt her face heat up at that. “That’s, that’s not what I meant,” she explained. “We tease each other.”_

_“Flirting,” Artemis coughed._

_The genius disregarded the feigned coughing and explained, “Besides, even if I was interested. And I most certainly am not. But if I was, it would be difficult as we’re not speaking.”_

_“Wait, what?” Artemis asked. “Please tell me that this isn’t about the lies. I agreed to them as well. And we did save the world.”_

_“No,” Babs replied. She had been angry at Nightwing, but the lies had been necessary. Truthfully, though, she was more annoyed at her own inability to deduce the truth. She should have known. The signs had been obvious. “He and Bruce fought again. Dick’s currently pretending Gotham and her inhabitants don’t exist.”_

_That was definitely annoying, but she wasn’t going to text him first. She had forgiven him, but still. He owed her an apology. Or even a simple text to check-in._

_The blonde’s eyebrows furrowed. “That’s strange. As far as I’m aware, he’s been keeping in touch with everyone on the team. No one wants another…incident.”_

_Nodding to cover her shock, she ignored the part of her that knew she had not been the friend or protégé her fellow Gotham heroes had needed when Jason had died, yet it was not her fault that Bruce and Dick were emotionally constipated. She allowed herself to grieve and heal, while they fell apart. The auburn-haired woman hadn’t been there to catch them._

_“I swear he texts me every three days like clockwork,” Artemis continued._

_It undoubtedly was clockwork. Knowing Dick, he probably set reminders on his phone, so he wouldn’t forget anyone who would worry. The former Boy Wonder was very good at reassuring people, or as Babs called it, lying through his teeth._

_Which meant that the man was avoiding her because Barbara Gordon read Dick Grayson like an open book. Even through text, she’d be able to spot his lies, so he hadn’t reached out. When the redhead finished her coursework, they would be having words._

_Smiling, she hid her thoughts about impaling Dick. “He’s probably just trying to make sure you’re okay. He’s a good friend like that.” Babs lied._

_“You’d know all about him being a good friend, wouldn’t you?” Artemis teased._

_Batgirl shoved Tigress a little too forcefully._

_The blonde grinned cheekily at her. The archer would be okay; she had a good head on her shoulders. A certain former boy wonder, though, she was worried about._

Returning her attention to the screen, Babs stared at the blinking cursor on the screen that mocked her. The female vigilante only had three more assignments to finish before she completed all the work for the summer semester. After finishing her classes, the genius would hunt down Bludhaven’s protector. 

A familiar cackle emanated from her phone. 

Speak of the devil. 

She answered the phone and before she could greet the caller, Dick’s frantic words reached her 

“How do you get a baby to stop crying?” 

Barbara blinked. She pulled the phone away from her face, double-checking the caller’s identity. The woman could hear the wails of an upset infant in the background. 

“Why do you have a baby?” 

“She’s not mine,” Dick replied quickly. “How do I get her to stop?” 

Despite her shock, Babs never could pass on an opportunity to mess with Dick. 

“Did you call me because I’m a female and should, therefore, know these things? Or did you call because you remembered that I babysat the Jackson twins?” She questioned pointedly.

“I called cuz you’re Babs.” His voice was quiet. “You know things. You fix things. You’re who I call when I don’t know what to do. You’re...Babs,” he finished lamely. 

Babs couldn’t prevent the giggle that escaped her lips. 

Dick groaned. “Please tell me I didn’t say that aloud.” 

“No can do, Boy Blunder,” She said with a grin. “Sleep deprivation or pain medication?” 

“I’m fine,” Dick growled.

Sleep deprivation then. 

“Give me your address. I’ll be right there,” she ordered, standing up and searching for her keys.

The former Robin hesitated, “You don’t need to do that. Just tell me what to do.” 

“Non-negotiable. You want my help. Give me your address,” she commanded. 

Dick muttered something about stubborn redheads. Like he could complain about anyone’s stubbornness. “Fine.” 

The genius looked at the map Dick sent to her phone. 

“I’ll be there in an hour,” she replied and hung up. 

She headed to her front door but paused as she grasped the doorknob. She double-backed to grab supplies from her utility belt. It never hurt to be prepared.

 

Arriving at Dick’s apartment, she knocked and a very frazzled, very unhealthy-looking Dick Grayson thrust open the door. Barbara tried not to allow her brain to stop to catalogue the numerous ways the former Robin looked like death. 

Red-rimmed eyes. Pale skin. Underweight. Favoring left side. 

Focusing her attention on the screaming infant, Barbara was shocked to find a redhead, and perhaps more stunned that her brain decided to immediately supply her with an image of another redhaired infant with stunning blue eyes and olive skin. She violently shoved that image away. Dick and she weren’t like that. 

She scooped the child off the floor, wondering why there was nothing but the child and newspapers in the room. The woman immediately started bouncing the infant, who seemed confused about this new person. The child fussed and Barbara cooed. The screaming infant whacked Barbara in the face, surprising the woman. 

Beside her, Dick snorted. “Yeah, I set her down to avoid bodily harm,” he teased. 

The female vigilante repositioned the infant to avoid another smack. The child’s cries settled slowly, and grey eyes blinked up at Barbara. 

“Whose is she?” The redhead asked. 

“Roy and Jade’s,” Dick answered.

“That explains the violent tendencies.” 

“Her name’s Lian,” Dick supplied, laughing. 

Lian demanded attention, attempting to hit Barbara again. “Hu,” the child cried. 

“This is Babs, Lian,” Dick explained. “She’s a friend of your uncle Dick’s.” 

Lian screamed again, shaking her head back and forth, “Hu! Hu! Hurs!” 

Dick’s unnaturally pale face lost more color. His eyes started to shine, and Babs realized his red-rimmed eyes were from tears earlier. When did the man last sleep?

“Please tell me you can stop this,” Dick whined. 

Babs returned her attention to the infant, who was still attempting to communicate. The woman listened and considered word variation and common mispronunciations for young children. 

“Hurts,” she decided. “What hurts, Lian?” 

Instead of answering, Lian shoved both her hands in her mouth and cried. 

Babs knew instantly what was wrong. 

“She’s teething,” she explained. “Do you have any ice?” 

“Uhh,” Dick said as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

Right, the man didn’t even have a table. 

“Did whatever genius that decided to leave her here at least bring a bag?” She snapped. 

Dick pulled a diaper bag out of his bedroom. Barbara shuffled threw it until she found what she was after. 

“These are teething rings,” she explained. She handed one of the brightly colored objects to Lian who placed it in her mouth, eyes still crying, even as the screams stopped. Babs placed the rest of the rings in the freezer, surprised to note that it wasn’t bare but had a few pizzas and microwaveable meals. 

Returning to the living room, she focused her gaze on the man in front of her. 

“Thanks,” he said. “I was not whelmed with the situation.” 

Barbara ignored his gratitude. “When was the last time you slept?” 

Dick grit his teeth. “I’m fine.” 

The redhead ignored him. Most people tried to force Nightwing to see reason and argued with him, which had a success rate of approximately 0.02%. Dick was raised by Batman, and she had never met more stubborn and stupid men, so no, Babs did not argue with Dick. Instead, she placed Lian on the floor, looked at the man across from her, and pulled out a sedative from her bag. 

“You have three options,” she enlightened him. “You can go to bed on your own. You can have this sedative if you need it. Or I will force you to take the sedative and call Batman to come collect you.” 

Dick immediately started rambling, which was another mistake people made with Dick. The man could talk a leopard out of its spots. He wasn’t okay, and she ignored any reassurances he gave. 

“Continue arguing and I’m going to assume you’re selecting option three,” she said, raising a pointed eyebrow. 

Dick’s grumbling ceased. 

“Fine,” he roared. “I’ll lay down.” As he walked into the bedroom, she heard him mutter something about evil redheaded geniuses. She bit back a grin. 

Within three minutes, Dick Grayson was asleep in a black sleeping bag on his floor. Lian fell asleep shortly after and Babs placed the infant on Dick’s chest. The man brought an arm up to cuddle and protect the child. Barbara grinned. One day, Dick would be a great father. The woman snapped a picture of the two and closed the bedroom door. 

Settling on the floor of the living room, the genius dug her laptop out and returned her attention to her incomplete paper. 

Two hours and three pages later, Red Arrow crawled through a living room window. He drew an arrow and aimed it at her. 

“Where’s my daughter?” 

Barbara found herself shocked again by the turn of events this evening because she could not possibly look threatening bent over a laptop in sweat pants. 

“Lian is asleep with Dick,” she stated. “I’m Barbara.

“Babs,” he nodded, dropping the arrow. “Dickhead has mentioned you.” 

“Care to explain why you left your daughter with Dick in the state he’s in,” she asked pointedly. 

“No,” he grunted. 

The male vigilante discarded his costume in the bathroom, returning in his normal clothes. 

Walking to the bedroom, he scooped Lian up. Dick grabbed weakly for the infant, and Babs bit back a smile. Lian settled into her father’s chest. 

“I’m taking her home,” he informed her. “Tell the idiot that this is strike two.” 

Roy and Lian left the apartment, and Barbara decided that she might as well get some rest as well. She needed to speak with Dick in the morning, and she’d rather not do that on fumes. The vigilante curled up on the floor with her back against the wall and slept. 

 

In the morning, she was awakened by a smiling Dick Grayson and a red mug full of steaming coffee. 

“Morning Babs,” he greeted. 

She grunted and sat up, reaching for the coffee.

“Still not a morning person,” Dick hummed cheerfully.

The redhead glared at him, which he took as an invitation to sit beside her with his own cup of coffee. 

The man chattered incessantly beside her. She may have considered punching his stupid face more than once. It wasn’t until she was halfway through her second cup of coffee that the genius realized what was happening. 

The original Robin was distracting her. It was a classic Dick Grayson move. Smile, laugh, and chatter until the suspicious party was reassured. 

“What’s going on with you?” She cut the ebony haired man off in the middle of a story about Zitka. 

“She speaks,” Dick gasped in mock surprise.

Babs elbowed him with the arm not holding the precious liquid. 

Dick shrugged. “I just got caught up with a case. There’s a new drug on the streets.” 

A red eyebrow rose. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Babs,” Dick complained. “You know how focused I can get.” 

“This was more than just a case.” 

Blue eyes flicked away from her. “I shouldn’t have let myself get that tired, but I’m fine.” 

She really wished he would stop saying that. 

“Lying to Batgirl as Nightwing I understand,” she spoke, trying to keep her voice level. “But I won’t tolerate it outside of the masks, Dick.” 

“I’m not lying to you,” Dick yelled, jumping up and pacing the room.

Babs stood up with him, spilling coffee on the beige carpet. 

“Leaving the team? Fighting with Bruce? Ignoring me?” she yelled back. “This is more than just a case. And you are clearly. Not. Fine.” She ground the last words out. 

“What do you want from me?”

“The truth,” she screamed, infuriated. 

“The truth?” Dick echoed loudly, turning to walk away from her. “I. Am. Fine.”

“Stop lying to me!” The redhead vociferated. 

The man turned to face her before. Anger in every expression of his face. “I’m not lying to you! I’m protecting you!” 

“From what?” She hissed. 

“Me,” he screamed. 

The word echoed in the silence it created. Babs was unprepared for that answer and the surprise showed on her face. The fight dropped out of Dick.

“Just, just go,” he whispered. 

Not for the first time, and it definitely would not be the last, Barbara Gordon ignored Dick Grayson's words. She hushed him and pulled the man into a hug.

A sob escaped Dick. He attempted to push her away, but the effort was halfhearted. Lowering them both to the ground, she held her friend while he cried. 

Dick wasn’t fine. But he would be. She’d make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I did Babs justice! She's such a phenomenal character, but I'll admit I'm not as familiar with her as I should be. If you have any Barbara Gordon stories that you would recommend, please let me know! (No smut please!)
> 
> Next up: Alfred Pennyworth discovers just how poorly Dick is doing and the lies he's been telling. And Dick thought Batman was bad...


	10. Chapter 9: Alfred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alfred's legendary patience runs out.

There were times Alfred Pennyworth did not understand how his charges maintained a successful double life. The men he looked after had obvious behavioral cues to suggest falsity. His first charge tended to disappear when guilt crept into his life. The first time the young master misbehaved at school, Alfred had not seen the last remaining Wayne except for the obligatory meals and the commute to school. The elderly gentleman, new to parenting, assumed the young sir merely desired solitude. Apparently, there had been a bit of confusion regarding the fact that the family butler was the legal guardian of Bruce Wayne. It was not until Gotham Academy finally contacted him that Alfred realized Master Bruce had been attempting to hide something from him. It was the first and last time such a ruse was successful. 

As he aged, the youngest Wayne found alternative ways to vanish when he knew he had committed some wrongdoing, which clued the older man to look for something amiss. Most frequently, Bruce chose to retreat to his company. Undoubtedly, this decision was based upon the reality that Wayne Enterprises was the one area of the man’s life that Alfred Pennyworth did not inhabit. 

The first child Bruce brought into the manor did not share his guardian’s behavior. For one, Richard needed people. He thrived on their presence in a way that neither Alfred nor Bruce did. At first, the earliest clue to guilt or something dangerous weighing on Richard’s mind was silence. The boy enjoyed chatter; however, as soon as emotions pressed him down, he retreated to reticence. Growing into a teenager, Richard realized the obviousness of his tell, so the young sir switched to obnoxious prattling. Yet when a matter seriously bothered Master Richard, he tended to emulate his father figure by disappearing, which was part of the reason Alfred’s concern for the young man was shifting into worry. 

The second child, Master Jason, may his soul rest in peace, blustered. He possessed neither the subtly of Bruce or the charm of Richard. When confronted with guilt, he spoke to your face directly with accusations of unfairness or indifference. In all honestly, Master Jason had been the easiest to handle, as one raised eyebrow was all it took for Jason to grumble an apology and try to change. 

Which left the matter of the newest charge in the manor, Timothy. In many ways Timothy reminded Alfred of a young Bruce, but he was also startlingly different. Similar to Master Bruce, the young teenager had started avoiding Alfred. However, there was none of the glowering, instead there was avoidance of eye contact, the toe of his shoe scrapping along the tiled floor, and hunched shoulders. 

Master Timothy was hiding something. 

If Alfred’s suspicions were correct, the matter directly related to Timothy’s absence and the car that had passed the manor two weeks ago. There was only one location Timothy would feel the need to sneak off to given Master Bruce’s current mood regarding his former ward. 

Timothy knew something regarding his grandchild, and Alfred’s patience had run out. 

Per usual Timothy arrived at the manor at 4:15 to use the gym and complete various training regimen assigned by his mentor. Alfred intercepted him at the door. 

“Can I interest you in a snack, Master Timothy?” The butler inquired. 

Timothy scrutinized his shoes. 

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbled. 

Undeterred Alfred continued, “Perhaps you’d join me for afternoon tea then. This house has felt empty since Master Dick left.” 

As expected, the young teenager flinched at the mention of Richard. Still looking at the floor, Timothy nodded and followed Alfred into the kitchen. 

Once in the kitchen, the elderly gentleman led the newest Robin to the small circular table in the kitchen, used most often for his charges favorite foods and hot beverages after nightmares and Alfred’s afternoon tea. The butler had previously prepared blueberry scones, Timothy’s favorite, which sat on a tray in the center table along with his own favorite stress relieving tea. Timothy might not appreciate the many benefits of tea, but he would not be so rude to refuse the beverage. 

Alfred hid a smirk the moment the young man stiffened behind him as he realized that he had been led into a trap. 

“Please sit down, Master Timothy.” 

The young man did so, but his gaze focused on the grain of the antique wooden table. 

Alfred poured liquid into the two china teacups and sat across from Timothy. He crossed one leg over the other and grabbed the saucer with his left hand and the cup with his right. He took a few sips before beginning his interrogation. 

“Is there something you’d like to tell me, Master Tim?” Alfred inquired.

Timothy did not twitch; his sight remained fixed on the table.

Very well, then. 

“Perhaps regarding a certain recent trip to Bludhaven.”

Blue eyes flicked up to meet his own, surprise clearly on his face.

“How di- how did you know?” The teen responded. 

The butler merely raised one eyebrow in response. He found his charges’ belief that he was omniscient often tipped the scale in his favor, and he had no intention of revealing his methods to them. 

The teenager let out a long breath. 

“Okay, yes, I went to Bludhaven to see Dick,” he said. 

“And?” 

Timothy’s blue eyes flitted towards Alfred’s and back to the table. 

Tim spoke quietly, “I promised not to tell Bruce.”

Alfred took another sip of his tea as he regarded the boy in front him. 

“I know the physical similarities are astounding, but I am not Master Bruce,” he remarked.

The humor fell flat; the adolescent directed his next question to the table. 

“Do you promise not to tell Bruce?” 

“I most certainly will do no such thing,” the employee refuted quickly. “I will use my discretion for what Master Bruce may or may not need to be informed about, but I will make no such promises before the information is revealed.” 

Tim nodded slowly, eyes fixed to the table. 

Several moments passed before the young man nodded his head again and looked up, although not at Alfred.

Refusing to meet the older man’s eyes, Timothy spoke softly, “I think Dick’s suicidal.” 

The teacup the British man held clacked against the saucer; tea sloshed out of the cup onto the saucer. 

Had he been standing, Alfred knew he would have stumbled. 

“That- that’s not what I meant,” Tim rushed to correct himself. 

Alfred snapped, “Then speak what you mean quickly.” 

Tim’s eyes focused on an object in the kitchen behind the elderly man. 

“I mean,” he started. “I’ve been doing some research, and I’m not a psychologist or anything, but I think he’s depressed.” 

Alfred’s heartbeat returned to a normal rhythm. Richard had been diagnosed with situational depression after Jason’s passing, but Alfred had suspected the possibility of mental health issues throughout the boy’s teenage years. When Timothy’s eyes met Alfred’s, the man realized how much fear and uncertainty lurked behind them. He had let this matter go for far too long. 

“I think the term’s passively suicidal,” Tim said quietly. “I don’t think he cares whether he lives or dies.” His voice raised in pitch and desperation, “He’s not eating or sleeping. He’s withdrawn from his family and friends. He’s _lying_ all the time to everyone. He’s not okay.” 

Dropping his gaze to the floor, the young sir whispered, “I’m worried about him.”

Despite Alfred’s justified trepidation for his grandchild, he shelved his plans for taking care of Richard for later. The desperation in Tim’s voice reminded the elderly man just how young the boy in front of him was. Timothy needed his help as well. 

“I will see to it that Master Richard receives the help he needs,” Alfred promised. “For now, I want you to eat at least one of those blueberry scones and drink the tea.” 

Timothy made a face as the word tea escaped the British man’s lips but knew better than to voice his opinion on the matter.

Picking up a scone, Tim spoke again, “Alfred, there’s something else.”

The butler was not convinced he’d be able to handle something else, but he nodded for Timothy to continue.

“Dick told me that he sometimes makes Batman angry so Bruce won’t notice things,” the teenager murmured. 

_That_ certainly was a piece of information Alfred had not known. His first two charges were stubborn and bullheaded, which he blamed for the frequent disturbances of the peace in Wayne Manor. To learn that Richard manipulated situations to force Master Bruce away from certain aspects of his personal life – well honestly, it was perhaps not as shocking as it should have been. Regardless, he would need to address that as well.

First, it seemed, he owed Master Bruce an apology. A perfectly cooked steak for dinner tonight should express his sentiments.

“You were right to inform me, Master Timothy,” Alfred reassured. “I will handle the situation.” 

 

It was nine am on the following Saturday when Alfred Pennyworth arrived at an apartment complex in one of the seedier parts of Bludhaven. He tapped precisely three times against the white door marked 504B. When no answer responded to his knocking, he rapped his knuckles against the door three more times. No answer was forthcoming.

Before he could knock a third time, Dick Grayson, clad only in blue and silver stripped boxers, threw open the door. 

“Alfred,” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here?” 

The man in questioned raised one eyebrow in response. “Do you always answer the door in a state of undress?” The British man queried. 

Even though Alfred knew Richard had been instructed in proper manners, his current state of dress allowed the surrogate grandfather to properly assess his physical health. His muscle mass had decreased significantly, doubtlessly caused by the young man’s recent aversion to food. Alfred could see the outlines of several ribs, along with a narrowing of his facial features. There were dark circles underneath his eyes. Not to mention the bandages around the bottom right of his torso. His left arm had stitches that had obviously been torn and sutured back together recently. Several yellow bruises colored his chest, and a dark purple bruise spread across his right thigh, which was directly above a swollen knee. 

The young sir was not well.

“I wasn’t expecting guests,” Richard defended. 

“My mistake, Master Dick,” Alfred replied. “I had not realized I had forgotten to educate you on the proper way to treat unexpected visitors.” 

His grandson hung his head. It would seem the young man finally began to realize just how much trouble he was in. 

“Sorry,” he responded, stepping away from the doorway. “Please come in.” He gestured with his thumb to a doorway behind him. “I’m gonna change. Uh. Make yourself at home.” 

The butler hummed in response and began his inspection of the premises, unsurprised to find the living situation in the same condition as the youth. There were only two rusted foldable chairs in the living room. A discarded milk crate was being used as a makeshift table in between them. Multiple coffee stains discolored the beige carpet. Rotting fruits and vegetables emitted an unpleasant aroma from the refrigerator. Coffee grounds littered the countertop. Mugs of various colors were stacked in the kitchen sink. 

Focusing on a problem he could solve, Alfred began throwing away the rotted food. The soft slap of bare feet on the tacky linoleum alerted the older man to the return of the younger. Alfred ignored him as he continued disposing of putrid vegetables. Through the crack under refrigerator door, he saw the young man shift his weight from foot to foot. 

Finishing his task, Alfred tied the trash bag together and handed it to Richard. 

“Dispose of this. I’ll pack your things,” he ordered. 

Dick’s face morphed from contrite to contention. 

Shaking his head, he argued, “I’m not going back to the manor.” 

Alfred pursed his lips, and he saw the young man pale. 

“When is the last time you ate a proper meal or slept for more than four hours?” 

Blue eyes fixated on a coffee stain, Dick refused to answer the question. 

“As you have proven yourself quite incapable of adequately caring for yourself, the matter is not up for debate,” the elderly man decreed. “You will dispose of this. I will pack your things. Then we both shall return to the manor. Is that understood, Richard?” 

Evading the butler’s eyes, the boy nodded, but insisted on digging his hole further. 

“I was kicked out of the manor,” he mumbled.

The youth was skating on very thin ice. 

“Would you like to explain how that event came about?” Alfred challenged. 

Richard flinched. Eyes wide, he shook his head lightening quick. 

“Then I suggest you desist your arguments and objections and prepare to leave,” Alfred commanded. 

The butler started loading mugs in the dishwasher, turning his back on Dick in clear dismissal. Richard, however, did not take the hint. 

“Does Bruce know?” He asked. 

“No,” Alfred informed him as he rinsed another mug and placing it in the machine. “However, you will be informing him about your manipulation when we return.” 

“You might as well just kill me know,” Dick murmured under his breath.

Alfred’s hand slammed onto the counter top. He turned around to face his charge, who had startled by his uncharacteristic outburst. 

“Do _not_ joke about such things, young man.” 

To think that Richard could have – No. He would not consider the possibility. It would not happen. 

Wordlessly, Dick carried the trash out of the apartment. Finishing his work in the kitchen, Alfred turned to pack the necessary items from the bedroom. Once he arrived in the bedroom, it was only years of British training that allowed him to not visibly react. Richard’s Nightwing gear was strewn across the room. The young man had not even bothered to place the equipment in a box to hide it. Anyone could have seen it. 

_What had he been thinking?_

The sad truth, Alfred admitted, was that Timothy was doubtlessly right. 

The butler concentrated on the task at hand. He found a box and began packing the equipment around the room. As he picked up several smoke pellets that had spilled across the floor, Alfred saw the gun. 

His heart stopped. 

Then restarted. Dick had joined the police force. Police officers used guns. There was nothing concerning about that. It didn’t mean –

He picked up the gun. Ignoring his biliousness that the safety was off, Alfred quickly removed the ammunition clip and shifted the safety on. He could not in good conscience leave the weapon on the floor of the apartment. Reluctantly, he placed it in the box as well. 

When Richard returned, Alfred handed the box to the man, and they descended the stairs in silence. 

Five minutes into the soundless drive, Dick spoke up. 

“You know, I’d never do that, right?” Dick mumbled to the floor. 

Alfred raised an eyebrow in response to the unspecific statement.

The older teenager took a deep breath. Summoning his courage, he said, “I’d never kill myself. Just in case – you seemed worried is all.”

Alfred allowed himself a small smile. 

“That is very good to hear, Master Dick.” Yet the worry that gnawed away at the grandfather would not be abated. “However, you do not appear to be interested in preventing your demise either.” 

His grandson refused to acknowledge him for the remainder of the journey home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Alfred didn't seem out of character. I've read many of the depressed Dick fics online, and I'm fairly certain people do not write Alfred's perspective often or at all. Alfred is the best, but reacting to a loved one with suicidal thoughts is emotional and he cannot lose another grandchild.  
> I cannot thank you enough for the comments and kudos! 
> 
> Next up: Dick undergoes and thorough medical exam and faces Bruce.


	11. Chapter 10: Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce is forced to face emotion.

On Saturday, Bruce Wayne slept until noon. Normally, he would not indulge in wasted mornings, but Alfred had forgiven him. Although he still did not understand what he had done to warrant such abrupt forgiveness, the man was wise enough to seize it gratefully. The restored relationship with his father figure allowed another area of the billionaire’s life to smooth from turmoil and allow his mind and body to rest.  


He had also, finally, after a month of extended hours led his company through another bit of financial success to compensate for his long absence. That, plus regular working hours for a time, should alleviate the board’s concern over his extended absence. Brucie was known for his impromptu month-long vacations, but six months had pushed it. Well three months, if one counted M’gann’s disastrous impression of him, which Bruce did not.

Climbing out of bed, he began his morning hygienic routine, opting to skip the shower until after his workout. He aspired to be in Central City by three today, but he required a punishing workout session if he was going to be any use to anyone. 

Barry Allen had been trapped in the speed force for a week. Bruce told him that his plan was ill-conceived and dangerous. The fastest-man-alive hadn’t listened. Batman had contingencies for this, of course, but they were severely limited by the lack of Flash and the original Kid Flash. After a week, with little progress from Flash’s team, Batman decided to intervene. 

Barry was a… an acquaintance. 

_He’s your friend, B._ He heard Dick’s laugh. _I know the situation is new cuz before you only had Uncle Clark._

No.

He shoved the emotions and voices aside. There were certain things he could not allow himself to think about or feel if he wanted optimal functioning. Dick was high on that list. His son- 

No. 

Bruce needed a grueling workout. 

Finished with his morning routine, Bruce headed to the kitchen to break his fast. There was a note on the counter from his butler, relaying that Alfred had some errands this morning but should hopefully be back before lunch. Alfred correctly assumed Bruce would sleep past breakfast but explained that there were fresh protein shakes in the refrigerator, in case he was wrong. The detective knew his surrogate father had never been wrong in his life.

Grabbing a protein shake, Bruce frowned at the note. Alfred did not run errands on Saturday, preferring to be around during the day when his charges were usually home. 

Wondering what could have triggered the butler’s absence, the billionaire finished his shake. He rinsed the glass and left it in the sink. Bruce did not need another lecture about the proper loading of the dishwasher. 

Entering the Batcave, he paused when he heard voices. Alfred was chastising someone. Perhaps Tim had come early. The voices came from the medical bay. Tim better not have injured himself attempting a workout too difficult for him; Batman would lock Robin out of the cave without supervision if needed. Turning the corner – 

He halted. 

Dick. 

Dick was lying down on the cot, eyes pinched and incredibly still, while Alfred was suturing a wound on his torso. 

A flood of emotions hit Bruce like a punch from Bane. He shoved them all down violently. 

“What happened?” He growled, startling the pair. 

His son flinched, causing Alfred to curse as he messed up a stitch. The real patriarch of the bat family redid the stitch. 

“Master Richard received a knife wound to his torso and decided to cover it with gauze and duct tape because and I quote, ‘stomach stitches pull too easily. He was fortunate that the knife did not pierce the abdominal cavity.” 

Bruce froze. Alfred’s voice was ice. Alfred’s voice was ice, and it was directed at _Dick._ The middle-aged man had seen his father figure mad, angry, and rarely livid over the years, but the emotions were directed at Bruce. Dick occasionally disappointed Alfred, but his son had always avoided Alfred’s wrath. The vigilantes’ improper treatment of injuries often exasperated his butler but never to feelings of ire. 

Needing more information, he turned to Dick, who was very purposefully not looking at him or Alfred.

“What was the blade made from?” Batman questioned.

His son’s head lulled to the side away from the adults. “It was just a regular combat knife.” 

“A regular knife wouldn’t have been able to pierce your Kevlar,” the older vigilante pointed out. It was unlike Dick to miss the obvious on a case. 

The younger vigilante closed his eyes, and managed to turn his head even further away from Bruce without moving a muscle in his torso that would disrupt Alfred’s work. He mumbled something to the wall.

“What?” Batman growled. 

With a face of a man approaching the gallows, Dick whispered, “I wasn’t wearing the Kevlar.” 

“What?” Bruce did not realize how loud his voice was until it echoed off the cave walls. 

The injured man flinched violently but this movement didn’t disturb his sutures because Alfred had paused in his movements at Dick’s pronouncement. There was a look of fear on his surrogate father’s face that Bruce could not confront. 

Batman barked, “Why?” 

The acrobat turned further away from him, pulling his torso with him this time. “It was too heavy.” 

His stomach plummeted to his shoes. Ice curled in the pit of his body. Bruce forced himself to look at his son. He could count ribs along the bruised torso, Dick’s facial features slimmed to dangerous levels, and his muscle mass had decreased. 

How had the world’s greatest detective allowed this to escape his notice? 

Beside him, Alfred’s blue eyes turned to fury. “Perhaps if you had bothered to eat within the last few months, you would not have found yourself in such a quandary.” 

Dick didn’t respond or move at the statement. None too gently, Alfred forced the adolescent to return to a position where he could finish the sutures. Tying off the stitches, Alfred stood, without a word and stormed out of the room, leaving a stunned Bruce Wayne and a lifeless Dick Grayson behind. 

Staring at his son, Bruce catalogued his numerous injuries. None were more concerning to the father than the fact that his acrobatic, energetic son was not moving. 

How had he allowed this to happen again? 

Memories of Dick’s broken body being operated on filled his memory. Dick had flatlined twice during the surgeries after the team had finally found him in the Amazon. 

Emotion tried escaping Bruce Wayne’s prison, and he swallowed it. The bundle of illogical conclusions would not help him now. 

Alfred returned with a protein shake on a bed tray. Setting it down on the table, the elderly man adjusted the settings on the bed to allow Dick to sit up and then handed him the tray. 

“You will finish all of this, and I will go prepare lunch,” he stated. 

Dick protested, “I’m not h-“

Alfred’s lips pursed, and one silver eyebrow rose. “I would think very carefully before finishing that sentence, Richard.”

Defeated, Dick nodded. 

“All of it, Richard,” Alfred repeated. “And Master Bruce, there is something Richard needs to discuss with you.” 

The butler left without another word. Bruce approached the bed and sat in the chair beside the medical bed. 

Drinking his smoothly slowly, Dick ignored him. 

Bruce sighed. He was going to have to begin this conversation. 

“What is it you want to tell me?” 

Dick laughed humorlessly. “I don’t want to tell you anything.” 

“Okay,” the older man conceded, determined to not allow emotion in this conversation. He could take his emotions out on a punching bag later. “What do you need to tell me?” 

Dick dropped his head and stared at the hand holding the protein shake. “It’s not important,” he whispered.

“Dick.” Batman’s growl escaped Bruce’s lips. 

Still staring down, Dick spoke quietly, “I may have been responsible for our latest fight.” 

_Get out._

Bruce thrust the recollection aside. Guilt would not help. Familiar with Dick’s need to blame himself, he tried to reassure his son. 

“It takes two to fight.” 

Dick groaned and pinched his nose, tilting his head to stare at the ceiling. 

“I picked the fight.”

What. 

“Explain,” he growled. 

His son made no effort to follow instructions. 

“Now,” Batman barked. 

His original partner refused to look at him, but at least, he complied. 

“When Batman is angry or focused, Bruce Wayne misses things.”

Ice water fell onto Bruce. 

Oh god. 

No.

This was why the billionaire did not let emotion in his life. Emotion blinded you. 

How long had he missed this? 

“Please tell me you’re not blaming yourself because I’m a manipulative _dick_.” 

Bruce looked up to see his son staring at him with an exasperated expression on his face. 

“How long?” 

Dick turned away from him again. “It doesn’t matter.”

“How. Long?” He repeated. 

His son shrugged. “Since I realized it worked.” 

“Which was when?” 

Dick sighed, sounding far more put out than he had any right to. He drank more of his smoothie before speaking. “Do you remember the debate match you missed my sophomore year?” 

Bruce hoped the question was rhetorical because Dick knew the billionaire had never been the best at keeping track of his ward’s many extracurricular activities. 

“Probably not. The important part is why you missed it,” Dick continued. “I messed up on patrol, pretty badly. I lied to you about a fever, and in my less than astrous state, I almost hit a civilian with a batarang.” 

Batman certainly remembered that. Robin had been benched for two weeks after the incident and watched like a hawk for any other unreported ailments.

“Batman was so furious with Robin, Bruce forgot Dick existed.” 

Bruce swallowed. That- that couldn’t be true. 

“After that, I realized that as long as Batman was angry, Dick would pass by unnoticed,” Dick finished. 

“You’re wrong,” The father contradicted. 

Dick shrugged, clearly done with the conversation. He drank his smoothie. 

The tight lid Bruce kept on his emotion snapped. He furiously grabbed his phone out of his pocket and brought an app onto the screen. He removed the tray from the bed and shoved the device into Dick’s hands. 

“What’s this?” Dick asked. 

“Look at it,” Bruce ordered. 

The younger man studied the screen. “This code is about me. You created an app to track me?!” Dick replied incredulously. 

“There has not been one second of one day since I kicked you out that I have not wondered about you and your safety. Don’t you dare insinuate that I don’t care about you.”  


Unsure who was more surprised by the outburst, Bruce grabbed his phone and sat back down. 

Dick’s gaze returned to his hands, and Bruce counted to thirty before trying to continue the conversation. 

“That was the first time you brought up my parents,” Bruce said slowly, ignoring the reminder of the pain Dick’s comment had caused. “Was your goal to be thrown out?” 

Eyes glistening, Dick nodded. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Dick.” 

“I don’t know, okay?” Dick said. Tears began flowing. “I don’t know why I’m not eating or sleeping. I just can’t. And you, you would have forced me to. You would have forced me back into therapy, and I hated therapy. I’m fine. I just need some time, and everything will go back to normal. It’s fine.” 

“Oh, chum.” Bruce stood up and sat next to his son on the bed. 

“Don’t,” Dick continued, shaking his head as tears kept falling. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.” 

“You are not fine,” Bruce stated calmly. 

“I am,” he repeated, words descending into incoherency. “And you have to stay away because I’ll get you killed too. I have to protect you and everyone. I can’t let anyone else die because of me.” 

Bruce pulled his son into a hug and shushed him. 

Dick did not try to escape, but the billionaire heard him mumble. 

“I’m poisonous.” 

“You are not poisonous,” he snapped. 

The father held his son until his sob’s ceased. When Dick had finished, Bruce pulled away slightly, so that he could grab Dick’s chin and force him to meet his eyes. 

“You are not poisonous,” he repeated. “You are my son.” 

Dick nodded slowly, closing his eyes. Bruce traced the bag under his son’s right eye with his index finger. 

“When’s the last time you slept, chum?” 

Dick pulled away. “Last night.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows. “For more than a couple hours?” 

His son looked away. “A week and a half ago.” 

“You need to sleep,” Bruce declared, stepping off the bed. They could figure out how to help Dick after his son had rested. “Do you need a sedative, or will you be able to sleep on your own?” 

“I don’t need a sedative,” Dick assured him.

Bruce was skeptical. “Are you sure?” 

Dick yawned. “Pretty sure, Alfie spiked the smoothie.” 

“Good man.” Bruce smiled as he readjusted the bed so that his son could lie down. 

The younger man closed his eyes, giving in to the inevitable. The detective stared at the man on the medical bed. How had he missed this? Dick admitted to manipulating Bruce for years. What kind of detective – what kind of father was he? 

Bruce had failed Dick. 

No more. He was going to fix this. The father didn’t know how, but he was going to fix this. 

Alfred’s return with a tray of food interrupted Bruce’s thoughts. 

“Forgive the presumption, sir, but I assumed you’d prefer to take your lunch here,” the butler said as he set the tray on the table. 

Bruce allowed a small smile to grace his lips. His surrogate father knew him well. Alfred returned to Dick to finish his ministrations. Bruce picked at his lunch as he watched the butler care for his child. Alfred bandaged Dick’s torso, elevated his leg, inspected the stitches on his arm, and began applying a bruise cream to his battered body. Dick did not even twitch throughout the treatment. When he finished, he grabbed an icepack for the swollen knee and a blanket for the man as he slept. 

Alfred turned to him. “Your lunch, sir,” he prompted Bruce. 

Noticing his half-eaten lunch, Bruce forced himself to eat. It would not help if Bruce followed in his son’s footsteps. “Sorry Alfred, I was distracted,” Bruce replied. 

“Indeed sir,” Alfred said. 

“How did I allow this to happen?” He asked, lost. 

The British man sat at the foot of Dick’s bed, a surprising move for the man attached to decorum. 

“Richard is no longer a child. He is responsible for his own choices.”

Ignoring the wisdom, Bruce persisted, “I failed him.” 

“You are not responsible for his decisions,” Alfred countered.

Bruce did not reply to the comment, turning instead to finish his lunch. 

“Master Timothy arrived thirty minutes ago. I sent him on a run around the perimeter, but he shall return shortly I imagine,” the butler informed him as he removed Dick’s tray and left the cave.

A short time later, Tim entered the cave, cheeks flushed from his run. When his current protégé’s eyes landed on the man on the bed, Tim visibly slumped in relief.

“Oh, thank God,” he whispered, approaching the bed. Tim’s observant blue eyes scrutinized Dick’s form. “He’s okay, right?” 

“He will be.” Bruce would make sure of it. 

“He’s thinner,” Tim remarked. “I should have told Alfred sooner.” 

Bruce eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?” 

Tim’s eyes widened. “Alfred didn’t tell you?” 

“Tell me what.” 

The boy looked at the floor.

“Tim,” the vigilante growled. 

Tim’s gaze fixated on Dick. “Well, what do you know?” 

Bruce leaned forward in the chair, elbows resting on the armrests as he steepled his fingers. How much did Tim know? Batman certainly was not going to worry Robin needlessly. 

“Assume I know nothing,” he replied. 

Tim’s brow furrowed in clear disbelief but responded, “I visited Dick two weeks ago, and I realized he was not okay. After some research, I realized that he fit the characteristics of someone who was passively suicidal.”

The floor dropped out from Bruce. No. He’s precious laughing child could not be suic-. He could not be. His brain reminded him of the fear that crossed the stoic butler’s face earlier. 

Oh, god. 

Wait.

Two weeks ago? 

“When did you inform Alfred?” Bruce questioned. 

“Yesterday.” 

“Is there a reason you waited two weeks?” 

Tim hunched in on himself, which reminded Bruce how small the boy was. Had Dick ever been that small? If memory served, Dick had been even smaller at Tim’s age. How did he keep justifying bringing children into his war? 

“I promised Dick I wouldn’t say anything,” he muttered. 

“Timothy, come here,” Bruce ordered.

Refusing to look at Bruce, the boy complied. Bruce placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He needed to stop making the same mistakes. With his other hand, he grabbed the boy’s chin and forced him to look at him.

“Dick is not your responsibility,” The mentor said firmly. “If you are worried that he or someone else is engaging in suicidal behaviors, you need to tell an adult immediately.”

Tim bit his lip. “But. I did not think he would do anything, not really.” 

“Would you have been able to live with yourself if he had?” 

Tim shook his head fiercely. Bruce could see the beginnings of tears in his eyes. The poor boy had been so worried about Dick. Tim had tried discussing it with Bruce and Batman, and he had shut down the conversation. Every. Time. 

Both his boys were floundering, and Batman was useless. 

He dropped Tim’s chin and pulled him into a hug. Hands clutched at Bruce’s shirt and he heard a sob escape the boy. The newest Robin did not cry nearly as long as the first. Timothy composed himself and pulled away. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing his arm under his nose. 

Bruce grimaced at the action. At least, Alfred hadn’t seen that. 

“You don’t need to apologize.” Bruce paused. “I should have listened.” 

Tim nodded. The boy’s face morphed into a careful mask of neutrality. Bruce cursed himself for teaching him that. 

“Are we still going to Central City?” He asked. 

Bruce Wayne sighed. How could he leave Dick? 

Images of his son’s dead body filled his mind. Dick shot by a gun while he wasn’t wearing Kevlar. Dick slipping and falling from a roof. Crashing his motorcycle, too tired to properly function. 

He forced himself to focus on his son’s form. Dick was fine. Sedated, he should sleep until Batman and Robin returned. 

Batman could not abandon Barry and possibly Wally to sit with Dick. 

“Yes, suit up.” 

With one last look at the man on the bed, Tim left the room. Batman turned to leave the room when he heard a buzzing from the table by the cot. Dick’s phone. 

Picking the phone up, he answered it. 

“Oh, thank god,” Barbara’s voice sounded with desperation. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” 

“Barbara,” Bruce replied.

“Bruce?” His only female protégé sounded unsure. “Is Dick with you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh good,” she exclaimed. “I went to his apartment and the whole place was clean, and I couldn’t find him. And I thought-” The redhead cut herself off. “Oh god. I’m so glad he’s safe.” 

Both of his protégés feared for Dick’s life. How had he missed this? He never should have brought Dick into his home. Perhaps then his son would be well. Batman would have stayed in his darkness, but it was a small price to pay for his child. Bruce Wayne was not capable of being a parent.

“Bruce?” Barbara asked. 

Distracted, he missed her original question. Batman needed a plan. 

“Barbara, can you come stay with Dick?” 

Barbara was smart enough to not ask questions on a civilian line. 

“Yeah, okay,” she replied. “I can be there in thirty.”

“Good,” he responded, hanging up the phone. 

Batman and Robin would bring Flash and Kid Flash home. 

Then Bruce Wayne was going to save his son even if he didn’t want to be saved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all didn't think I forgot about the speedforce plot point.  
> I know a lot of you were waiting for this chapter, so I hope it meant our expectations!
> 
> Bruce is absolutely right about one thing. If you suspect someone of suicidal behavior, you need to tell a responsible and trustworthy adult.  
> Suicide hotline: 1-800-273-8255
> 
> Also, many of you have mentioned that you have appreciated the little mentions of Jason. After I finish this, I'm tempted to write a story about Jason coming to the manor in the YJ universe while Dick is still at home and constantly fighting with Bruce. Is this something people would be interested in reading?


	12. Chapter 11: Artemis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Artemis realizes how big her family is, and Iris West-Allen takes on Batman.

The explosion forced the two women to thud against the ground. The heat singed the bottom of Artemis’s pant leg. She rolled her ankle against the ground to prevent the sparks turning into a flame. That was too close. 

“Was that last explosion really necessary,” she hissed at the dark-haired woman beside her. 

Jade laughed. “Just making sure they couldn’t get back in business.” 

“I’m pretty sure the ninja star you landed between the leader’s legs was enough incentive,” Artemis retorted. She stood up and dusted herself off. 

Jade flipped up from her back. Being a mother had made Jade particularly violent regarding crimes committed against children. 

“It was nothing less than they deserved, Baby Sis,” the former assassin growled. 

Tigress didn’t think anyone had been killed in the explosion, so she wouldn’t complain too much. Cheshire had devastated the trafficking ring’s base of operations. The two had captured the perverts who were selling children, called the local authorities, and arranged for the girls and boys to be left with a ministry organization committed to providing safety and education to kids in the area. Artemis had been ready to return home, but then her sister got her infamous grin on her face – and the younger sibling knew they wouldn’t be returning home just yet. 

In fairness, destroying their base of operations - so that when the men were inevitably leased by the corrupt justice system, their plans for resurrecting their business would be hindered – was a good plan. Yet, Artemis still figured Jade’s motives were more vengeful than justice oriented. 

Tired, Tigress wasn’t going to force the issue. 

“Are we ready to go home now?” The blonde vigilante asked. 

Cheshire carefully gazed around the wreckage she had wrought. Wood burned in the devastation. Steel and concrete covered the ground. There was a small crater where one of the buildings used to sit. 

Smirking, she replied, “Yes, I think we are.” 

Great because Artemis really needed a shower. 

Unfortunately, Cheshire was not a member of Young Justice, nor was she exactly trusted by Batman, which meant using the Zeta tubes to transport to any base was out of the question. Tigress did not relish the idea of driving their motorcycles all the way back to an extraction point. She missed Miss Martian’s bioship. Sighing, she started walking to where they had stashed their rented bikes. The sooner they were on the bikes, the sooner they would be home. 

“Where are you going?” 

Tired of her sister, she replied sarcastically, “To the bikes, so we can go home. Or did you want to stand here and admire your destruction some more?”

In the distance, Artemis heard the sound of a helicopter. Great. Now, they needed to avoid whatever that was. 

Her sister made absolutely no move for cover. 

“I called in a favor,” she yelled over the increasing loud sound. 

The blonde archer had a lot of questions about that, but she was tired and not in the mood to play Jade’s games to get answers. 

A ladder rope dropped down between them. 

Jade grabbed the rope.

“After you?”

Tigress grabbed the rope and climbed to the top. Her sister followed her. She stopped as soon as she hauled herself into the hull of the vehicle. 

“Roy?!” She exclaimed. 

The redhead in the pilot seat smirked. “Miss me, Artie?” 

“Don’t call me that,” the blonde hissed. 

Jade flipped into the helicopter. She went straight towards her husband and pulled him into a deep kiss. Artemis did NOT need to see that. 

“Can you two make-out later?” She yelled over the sound of the blades.

Jade pulled away slowly and reached for her daughter who was in a car seat in the copilot’s chair. Artemis hadn’t noticed Lian when she entered. What kind of irresponsible parents brought an infant in a helicopter?

Roy caught her frown. 

“Relax, would you?” Red Arrow spoke loudly, “She has the strongest noise canceling headphones available. She can’t hear anything right now.” 

Holding her sleeping daughter to her chest, Jade grabbed two pairs of headphones. Stripping of Tigress’s mask, Artemis put on the headphones Jade offered her and the noise of the helicopter dimmed. She sat down next to her sister in the back seats. On the floor she noticed the Queen Industries logo. 

“Did you steal from Ollie again?” She said into the headset’s microphone. 

Roy laughed. “No, I didn’t need to. Turns out the old man loves being a grandfather. I think Lian already owns an island in the Caribbean.” 

“Wait, the helicopter belongs to Lian?!” The blonde exclaimed. 

“No, Sis,” Jade interjected. “This was a belated wedding gift.” 

“Your presents wouldn’t have been late had you two actually told anyone you were getting married.” Artemis was not still bitter. She wasn’t. 

Her sister nudged her with her shoulder. “Stop pouting. We didn’t even know we were getting married until it happened.” Jade leaned over and whispered even though whatever she said would be picked up by all the headsets. “I only stayed with him cuz he’s so cute.” 

“She wants me for my body,” Roy replied. “I can’t blame her for having good taste.” 

Artemis groaned, “Stop, please.” 

“I never figured you for a prude, Little Sis,” Jade said with a smirk. “I mean you and that speedster had to-”

“Stop!” Artemis yelled. 

Jade gave her an innocent look. “Had to have kissed. Really, Artemis? What did you think I was going to say?” 

The blonde rolled her eyes but neglected to reply.

“Speaking of speedsters,” Roy started from the pilot’s chair. Artemis could hear the slight uncomfortableness in his voice. “We’ll be touching down in Central City.” 

“Why?” Artemis did not want to step foot in that city. 

“I was hoping to have better news when I picked you two up, but the Flash is trapped in the speed force,” Roy stated. 

Next to her, she heard a slight growl from Jade. She didn’t know what that was about, but it wasn’t good. 

“What?” That did not make sense. Furthermore, the three of them were hardly going to be any help with regards to the mystical energy _thing_ that speedsters created? Helped to create? Could access? Whatever. Science was not her thing. 

“Barry had a theory. He was pretty convinced that there was something off about Wally’s death,” Roy explained. “He kept arguing that if Wally was actually dead, there would have been, at least, something of Kid Flash’s left.” Artemis could hear the wetness in his voice. There were a lot of people who had loved her idiot. “Anyway,” he said clearing his voice. “He theorized that the chrysalis energy, faced with the overwhelming speed shot Wally into the speed force.” 

Artemis bit her lip. It seemed every time she felt she had finally moved forward in her grief. Something would happen that pulled her down again. 

“But he was wrong, and now he’s lost as well,” she responded, defeated. 

“We don’t know that he was wrong,” Roy replied, but she knew Roy didn’t believe it. 

“Don’t try optimism. It doesn’t look good on you,” the blonde replied. 

Roy sighed. “I’m sorry, Artemis.” 

She shook her head and ignored the pain that formed behind her eyes. Like hell, was she going to cry in front of her sister and Roy. 

“Why are we going to Central then?” She asked. 

“The original Justice Squirts are there,” he said. “Apparently, there was a complaint about not being included in rescue plans.” Roy shrugged. “I’d imagine they are trying to help with the Flash’s retrieval at this point, but I was asked to bring you there.” 

Roy turned to face her, a rare compassion on his face. “If you don’t want to be there, I’ll tell them no.” 

Artemis did not want to be there, but she had abandoned the team once. She was not ready to do it again. Plus, the team have been helping her with her grief. M’gann baked terrible cookies and reminisced with Artemis about Wally’s antics. Conner allowed the archer to punch him as hard and as often as she needed while they sparred. Kaldur offered her quiet companionship on the nights she couldn’t talk. If they wanted her there, she’d be there. 

“It’s fine,” she said. Besides Barry had basically adopted her into his family. “What about the League?” 

“Well, you know who showed up and said he didn’t want any help from anyone while he worked. Apparently, the Big Bad Bat thought of Barry as a friend.” Roy’s voice was dripping with absolute glee. Artemis didn’t know what he was so excited about, even Roy Harper wasn’t dumb enough to try to blackmail the Batman. “But he prefers to work alone. He even told the Mini-League to leave, and Kaldur told him to eff off.” 

The blonde knew that Kaldur’s response had been more dignified and polite than a curse word but undoubtedly just as firm. The Atlantean could be stubborn when he wanted something. She’s not sure why her team would want to be there. None of them, except maybe Dick – who wasn’t there anyway - had strong science backgrounds. Plus, what little Artemis did understand about the Speed Force was that you had to be a speedster to be granted access. Maybe, they just wanted a place to grieve together silently away from the noise and constant how-are-yous from the newer members of the team. 

Either way, Artemis would be there with them. It was her job.

Curious as to why Jade had not participated in the conversation, Artemis drew heavy eyes to look over at her sister. She bit back a laugh. Jade was fast asleep. Lian curled protectively in her arms. The woman’s head had flopped to one side, her mouth was open, and drool dribbled down the side of her chin. 

Smirking, the blonde drew her phone out of her pocket and snapped a photo of the rare moment. Unlike Roy, this was material she would be able to use for blackmail. Securing her phone back in her pocket, Artemis leaned back and attempted to sleep. 

 

A few hours later, they touched down on top of S.T.A.R. labs in Central City. She found her original team, minus Wally and Dick, in a large room with several holographic computers. Connor had the same expression on his face he always did, but his arms were crossed in a way that showed he was angrier than normal. Kaldur stood tall, feet shoulder width apart and his hands at his side but dangerously close to his batons. M’gann was floating with a worried look on her face. Batman and the latest Robin stood in a corner of the room observing. The archer hadn’t worked with the new Robin for long, and she still expected him to joke around like Dick. Robin 3.0 was nothing like the original. He was often silent, and behind the mask, she knew, those eyes saw more than he let on. There were also two people in the room, stationed at the computers, that Artemis didn’t know, and Iris West-Allen, who was currently glaring at Batman. Artemis found a new level respect for her almost aunt. 

Jade and her family stationed themselves in the remaining unoccupied corner, and Roy acted as a buffer between Jade and the team. Battle lines had been drawn, but why? 

The tension in the room was palpable. 

A rush of wind and scattered papers alerted everyone to the presence of the new Kid Flash. 

“Sorry, I’m late. What did I miss? Are we going to save Gramps now? Crash,” Bart rambled as he skidded to a stop. 

“We will be as soon as Batman hands over his tech,” Iris growled. 

Whoa. Had that sound just come from the small petite woman with no crime fighting experience? How on earth was Iris Allen not afraid of Batman? 

“Now that everyone is here,” Batman stated calmly. “I’ll begin the briefing. Most of you are already aware that Flash entered the speed force, despite advisement against the course of action, approximately 170 hours ago in an effort to retrieve the original Kid Flash. During that time, there has been no communication from Flash. It is to be assumed that he is in need of rescue.” 

“Finally,” Bart interjected. “I’m ready to go!” 

Five shouts of “No!” cut the time traveler off. 

“Kid Flash, you are the only remaining speedster. It is imperative that you are not trapped in the speed force as well,” The dark knight explained. 

“Aw, come on! But only speedsters can enter the speed force,” he complained. 

Batman pulled a small ring out of his pocket. It glowed slightly blue and the materials of the ring looked to shape and shift like a river. 

“This is a prototype speed ring. It should vibrate the molecules in a non-speedster’s body quickly enough to fool the speed force and allow entry for a limited period of time,” he described. 

Bart raced over to Batman. “That is so crash!” 

Batman pocketed the ring and glared at Kid Flash until he zipped further away. Artemis was not sure, but she swore she saw the new Robin smile for a second before remembering himself. 

“I’m glad you explained it again. Now hand it over,” Iris stated and held out her hand for the ring. 

“You are seven months pregnant,” Batman growled. 

Artemis was not ashamed to admit that the first time that deep growl had been directed at her, she had flinched. The redheaded woman did not even bat an eye. 

“Barry’s my husband,” she said. “I’m going.” 

The female next to Iris and the computers approached Iris and laid her hand on top of the angry woman’s extended arm. 

“Maybe we should send someone else. Barry would kill us if anything happened to you,” the woman stated calmly. 

Iris turned her glare to the blonde woman. 

“If you think Barry would let anything happen to me or his unborn children, you don’t know him,” she insisted angrily. 

“If the Flash is incapacitated, he will not be able to defend you,” Batman replied stonily. 

The reporter threw an angry finger at the vigilante. “You have an entire city to defend, the Justice League, and a child to take care of.” She whirled, well turned quickly for a pregnant lady to face the two people Artemis did not know. “Caitlin needs to stay here in case anyone needs medical attention. Cisco cannot go because he is the only one who can open a portal. And they,” she finished as her arm shot out to Artemis’s team. “Are not human, and I doubt your speed ring or whatever will work with their physiology.” She returned her attention to Gotham’s Bat. “Hand it over.”

Artemis realized why she was here, but before she could speak Jade grabbed her wrist and hissed, “Don’t!” 

Batman stared directly at her. 

The blonde pulled her arm out of her sister’s grip. 

“I’ll go.” 

“No,” Iris turned to face her with a pale face. “No. I will not allow it.” 

“Tigress is a capable hero and not seven months pregnant,” Batman declared. 

“No,” Iris’s face took on an angry red color. “I sit back and watch and hope and pray every time you, the world, and Central City need him. This time I’m going to get him.”

“Perhaps Batman is right,” M’gann interjected.

“Grandma, please don’t,” Bart said as he zipped up to cling to the woman. Iris ruffled his hair reassuringly.

Kaldur nodded his assent. “It would be irresponsible to send a pregnant woman into the unknown.”

“Then we are in agreement.” 

Roy and Jade, holding Lian who ignored the room in favor of playing with her mom’s hair, stepped up beside Artemis. 

“Oh, do not preach safety and responsibility to me Batman. You sent a 9-year-old out to fight crime in Gotham of all places,” Iris challenged. 

Batman folded his arms across his chest. “This is not up for disc-“ 

“You are not asking me to lose someone else,” Iris cried.

“Iris, it’ll be okay. I’ll get him back,” Artemis said with she hoped more confidence than she felt. 

Jade whispered something to Lian. Her niece grabbed a chunk of Tigress’s uniform. 

“No weave!” She screamed, “No weave!”

Red Arrow snuck an arm out around her shoulders. He was glaring daggers at the Bat. “Looks like you’re outvoted, Artie.” 

The reporter shook her head. “You have your whole life ahead of you Artemis,” she argued before returning her attention back to the dark knight. “Besides, Artemis does not have a strong enough emotional tie with Barry. Maybe with Wally, but I’m the only one who loves them both. If anyone is going to find them both, it’s me.” 

“As much as it pains me to admit,” the darker skinned man by the computers interrupted from where he had been watching the conversation outside of Batman’s line of sight. “She’s right. It is easier to vibe people when they are connected.” 

Turning to face Iris, Cisco pleaded, “Iris, Barry’ll-”

“Barry knows who he married.” 

“I,” Artemis started, but didn’t know how to complete the sentence. She knew the older woman was right. She loved Wally, but she couldn’t argue that she felt the same way about Barry. The archer cared about Wally’s uncle, but a strong emotional tie? The blonde did not have that. 

Iris waddled up to the younger woman. She grabbed the female vigilante’s hands. “I need to do this Artemis,” she begged.

Tigress nodded. 

Bart zipped towards the computers. He looked around the room at the adults. 

“If Grandma doesn’t make it back, will I die?” He asked. 

“Probably not,” Cisco assured him. “From what we’ve seen of time streams, it shouldn’t affect your existence.” 

Kid Flash nodded, but Artemis could see the quivering of his lips. Iris opened her arms and Bart ran into them. The grandmother shushed and comforted her grandson, promising that she would come back. 

Artemis knew better than anyone that was a foolish promise to make.

Batman’s glare hardened. He stormed to Artemis’s makeshift family. He held the ring out. 

“You will have approximately three hours before your molecules rip apart and disintegrate into the speed force. If you haven’t located them by that time, it is imperative that you return,” he stated. 

Iris nodded, taking the ring. The woman hugged her companions and Artemins. She held Bart for a few minutes before nodding towards the Hispanic man. 

“Please don’t make me regret this,” he beseeched her. 

The reporter kissed him on the cheek. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.” 

Cisco opened a portal and Iris stepped through. 

The only thing the heroes could do now was wait. 

 

As agreed beforehand, Cisco opened a portal every hour on the hour. The team waited impatiently for results. If the original Kid Flash and Robin were here, Artemis knew they would have roped the others into some sort of ridiculous game to take their mind off the tense waiting – but they weren’t here. Kaldur found a private room to mediate, Conner and M’gann had disappeared somewhere. Batman had his arms folded across his chest and as far Artemis could tell he hadn’t so much as twitched during the last half hour. Robin shifted impatiently next to the man. 

After the first hour passed with no results, Artemis left to find something to shoot. She had been surprised that Roy joined her. The blonde didn’t know where her sister and niece had wandered off to, but she was glad they were not here. Lian did not need to associate her aunt with random violence. The girl had her parents for that. 

Tigress found she was grateful for Red Arrow’s company. The two didn’t speak, but the older vigilante kept challenging Artemis to increasingly difficult trick shots. The blonde archer found the task relaxing. Focusing on her next shot, she would need the arrow to ricochet off the far corner, if she hoped to hit the soda can behind her. 

She let the arrow fly, smirking as it followed its intended trajectory. The blonde raised one eyebrow at the redhead in challenge. Roy didn’t meet her dare. 

“It’s nearly been three hours,” he said. 

Artemis sighed and nodded. Both of Green Arrow’s protégé’s headed back to the lab. The team and the adults were there. Bart was wearing a trench in the ground with his pacing. Batman said something to Robin, who nodded and approached Kid Flash. After a brief hesitation, Wally’s successor nodded and the two left the room. 

No one said a word. Batman nodded to Cisco, who opened the portal. Nothing came through. There was no sound. No rustle of wind. Nothing. There was nothing to indicate that anyone would come through. 

No one breathed. 

They waited. 

A minute passed. 

Two. 

Fear curled in Artemis’s stomach. 

A third minute passed. 

Lian, held in her father’s strong arms, whimpered in her sleep. 

The fourth minute ticked by. 

Sweat rolled down Cisco’s temple. 

The portal had been open for five minutes. 

“Shut it down,” Batman ordered. 

“I can hold it,” the man argued. 

Six minutes passed. 

Artemis stared at the portal in the room, willing Iris to step through. 

The second hand ticked another sixty seconds. 

No one moved. 

The eighth and ninth minutes ended. 

Cisco looked pale. 

His face drained of color. 

“Shut it down,” Batman commanded. 

The Latino ignored him, focusing all his energy on keeping the portal open. 

A tenth and eleventh minute passed. 

The portal disappeared, and the man holding it open collapsed. The woman Artemis had never been introduced to immediately attended to him. M’gann wept in Conner’s arms. Kaldur stared at where the portal was in disbelief. They were grieving Wally a second time. 

Artemis had been smarter. She had not dared to allow herself to hope. Wally was dead. Disappoint was easier to face when your expectations were low. 

Still, Iris was gone. Iris and her two small children were gone because Artemis let her go in her stead. Selfishly, she knew it was nothing compared to the pain of losing Wally. 

Bart zoomed back into the room. 

“No,” his young voice echoed across the walls. “No! No! No!” 

Before anyone could react, he zoomed out of the room again. If he were anything like his predecessor, he’d run a few hundred thousand miles before returning. 

Artemis headed for the door. There was nothing more she could do here. 

Papers scattered in the air around Artemis. She felt a gust of wind. 

No. 

She didn’t want to turn around. She couldn’t face another disappointment. She closed her eyes. 

“Who the hell let my wife into the speed force?” Barry growled. 

Artemis let out a choked sob and turned around. Flash was standing in the middle of the room holding a convulsing Iris West-Allen. Batman and Flash’s team surrounded the ailing woman. The side of the room erupted into chaos, but the blonde didn’t process it because standing right behind his uncle – 

“Wally,” she cried. 

He ran towards her. 

“Hey beautiful, miss me?” He smiled at her. 

Without another thought, she pulled him into a deep kiss. 

Wally broke the kiss first. His forehead rested against hers and his arms were tight around her waist. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He grinned. 

“Marry me,” she replied. 

Wally pulled back slightly. 

“Um,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “I think I’m supposed to be the one to ask.”

She heard Jade snicker to her left and a gasp from M’gann, but Artemis only had eyes for one person in the room. 

She would not lose him again.

“Marry me,” the archer repeated. 

Wally’s eyes darted around the room quickly before settling back to her. The female archer bit her cheek to prevent her grin at the look on his face. Wally was back. She was never leaving him again. 

“Now?” he whispered. 

She missed this stupid, adorable idiot. 

“Later,” she promised. 

The redheaded speedster nodded and broke out into a large grin. He pulled her into another kiss. Then he faced the room and shouted, “We’re getting married.” 

Barry left Iris seated in a chair. She was pale but otherwise seemed stable. The female doctor fussed over the reporter. He zipped over to the happy couple. 

“I believe you’ll be needing a ring,” the older speedster said as he handed Wally the speed force ring. 

“Since Artemis asked, shouldn’t Wally wear the ring?” Roy joked. 

Wally scowled at him. Barry leaned down to whisper something to his nephew, who promptly yelped and put the ring on his finger. 

“Roy’s right,” he said loudly. “I’m wearing the ring!” 

Green Arrow’s protégés laughed. Artemis couldn’t contain her grin any longer. 

Kaldur approached the pair, offering his hand. “Congratulations, my friends.”

Wally shook the Atlantean’s hand, and then pulled him into a hug. A too large grin broke out on his face, and he sped around the room giving everyone, save Batman, a hug.  
He skidded to a stop next to Artemis, placing his arm around her shoulders. 

“Wait,” he said, frowning. “Where’s Nightwing?”

There was a long pause before anyone answered. 

“He did not take news of your death well, my friend,” Kaldur responded. “He has taken a leave of absence from the team.” 

Wally bit his lip. “So he’s vacationing?” 

Kaldur began to reply, but Batman spoke first.

“He’s in the cave recovering.” 

Recovering? Recovering from what?

Wally rushed to Batman. “Is he okay?” 

Batman nodded. “He will be.” 

The speedster zoomed towards the zeta tube and gave a pleading look to Batman. The older vigilante nodded and pressed a button on his glove. 

The zeta beams fired up and Wally was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: The only thing I know about the Flash's team is from the 2014 show on the CW, which is why I tired to keep Cisco Ramon and Caitlin Snow's appearance to a minimum.  
> When I started this fic, I was immediately asked if I was going to bring Wally back. To be honest, I hadn't started this fic with the intention of bringing him back. Ultimately, I decided to bring him back for two reasons no one ever stays dead in comics (I'll be surprised if he is still dead in season 3.) and more importantly, I wanted to show that depression doesn't magically go away just because life gets better.  
> I know Artemis chapters are not everyone's favorite, but she is an important foil for Dick, especially in how she handles her grief i.e. Dick isolates, Artemis returns to the team; Dick blames himself, Artemis tries to process, etc.  
> Next up: Wally reunites with Dick, and Dick is confronted by the team.


	13. Chapter 12: Wally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wally West breaks the dynamic duo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for discussion of suicide

Running into the Batcave, Wally West skidded to a stop in front of his best friend who was recovering on a medical cot. He took in Dick’s pale slender face, the bandages, _the ribs_ , the IV drip attached to the arm that trembled. 

Worry raced through Wally. 

Dick Grayson didn’t tremble.

Ever.

His lightning-quick eyes flicked back up to the acrobat’s face, which had drained completely of color. Was something wrong? Wally searched for bleeding and looked at the medical equipment for a clue. 

The trembling hand slowly reached up to cup the male redhead’s face. 

“Wally,” Dick whispered. 

The speedster’s thoughts skidded to a stop. 

Oh. 

OH. 

He probably should have figured out how long he had been trapped in that hell before zooming off. 

Blue eye’s flicked to the room’s other occupant in the chair on the opposite side of the bed. 

“Babs,” Dick choked. “You see him too, right?” 

Wally grinned and flicked his best friend on the ear before zipping his hand back before Nightwing’s reflexes caught him in a vice grip. 

Behind him, Barbara laughed. He knew he liked that girl. 

“Yes Dick, I see him,” she reassured him. 

Even Wally’s superior speed couldn’t prepare him for the bundle of best friend that flung itself into his arms. 

“Wally!” Dick exclaimed. 

The speedster spoke into his friend’s ear, “Yeah buddy, I missed you too.” 

“Lay back down before you pull your stitches.” Barbara’s voice was a cross between amused and annoyed. 

Before Wally could ask about the stiches, the speakers announced the arrival of the team and Red Arrow. Batman had let the team into the Batcave, which meant that Batman was worried – and there was really only one thing that ever worried the dark knight. Wally wanted more time to talk with his friend alone because he knew his chances for straight answers were distractedly improved if others weren’t present. 

His green eyes flashed back to Dick’s blue ones. There was a pleading behind them. The speedster knew what his friend wanted and as much as he thought Dick deserved a good thrashing from all of the team because he was a colossal moron who had promised not to do this again – but bro code. Wally was not about to break the bro code. 

He zipped to the locker room and found Dick a shirt and zipped back to the med bay, throwing the injured man the t-shirt. Dick scrambled into it as the original YJ team walked into the room. 

“What happened?” growled Superboy, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at the man on the bed.

M’gann floated into the room and hovered next to the clone. Artemis, in that stupid Tigress uniform, walked into the room with an expression that promised trouble for Wally later. Rubbing the back of his next, the redhead grimaced. Okay, yeah – he probably shouldn’t have run off without a word after they had just gotten engaged. 

Kaldur and a livid Roy Harper approached the foot of the medical bed. 

“I, too, would like to know what has transpired,” the Atlantean stated incredibly calm. 

Roy didn’t speak, which frightened Wally more than anything. He did not envy Dick. 

Blue eyes flicked to the female bat beside him. 

“Don’t look at me, Boy Wonder. You got into this mess on your own,” Barbara said, leaning back in her chair with an almost amused smile. Wally knew he liked this girl. His life would be so much easier if Dick dated people who had his number. 

Dick sighed and plastered an innocent expression on his face. 

“I was injured in a fight with a new drug gang. It didn’t pierce the abdominal cavity, but it did need stitches. I should be good to go in no time,” the Romani explained. 

“Why haven’t you been eating?” Connor’s eyes were narrowed. 

The former Robin froze briefly. 

“That’s an excellent question. I’m sure Dick has an excellent reason,” Roy spoke calmly. Too calmly. 

Wally had no intention of being in the same hemisphere when Roy got Dick alone. 

The injured man’s eyes flicked to the speedster in silent plea. 

Oh no. Not this time, Rob. 

He had covered for the original child partner long enough. 

Finding no aid, Dick stared at his hand that was tugging at a loose string on the blanket. 

“I haven’t been hungry,” he said to his lap.

There was a deep growl from Wally’s right. He turned to see Artemis approach Dick’s bed with her nostrils flaring. 

“You promised me this wouldn’t happen again.”

The acrobat’s eyes flicked up, anger radiating from them. 

“It didn’t,” he hissed. “I checked-in. I didn’t leave Bludhaven. I have a gash from a lucky blow that required stitches. I’m not half dead. I-” 

Kaldur interrupted before more tempers could fly. 

“Be that as it may. You still have proven your word false. You promised us you we fine. It does not take a superior intellect to see that the words were empty.” 

Dick snapped, “I am fine.” 

“You are not fine,” growled Superboy. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t have lost so much weight.”

“Or collapsed at work,” Roy added. 

“He what?” M’gann asked. 

Roy’s facial muscles ticked before retreating into the incredibly calm façade he had been projecting. Wally knew that was the scariest thing he had ever seen. Give him an angry Batman over a calm Roy Harper. At least, he knew Batman wouldn’t hurt him…well, probably not. Batman most likely wouldn’t hurt him. Okay, on second thought he’d rather have neither. 

The archer repeated, “He collapsed at work from exhaustion.” 

Rather than continue arguing, Dick stared at his hand that was still playing with the thread from the blue material. Wally wished he knew what his friend was thinking. After Jay’s death, Dick had nearly died of malnutrition and exhaustion. Of course, that became secondary after the poison and bullet holes. A flash of anger overcame Wally. The man had promised this would never happen again. 

“I would like to understand the reasoning behind your decisions,” the team leader stated. “As a team, we have stood by each other and saved one another countless times. Why would you doubt us?” 

Wally turned his attention to the Atlantean. He noticed the bags under his eyes, and the weariness that emanated from him. Had the man gotten a break at all? Nightwing abandoned the team, leaving Aqualad to run things by himself after a devastating mission. The YJ team leader deserved a break. 

Dick mumbled, “I didn’t doubt you.” 

“Please explain why you didn’t want our help then,” Kaldur persisted. 

The acrobat looked up at his friends and sighed. 

“I thought I had it covered.” He shrugged. “I guess I was wrong.” 

The speedster didn’t trust the look in his friend’s eyes. Wally would need to get Dick alone for honest answers. 

A sheepish smile and wide eyes graced Dick’s face. He rubbed the back of his neck. A quick glance around the room told the speedster the team wasn’t buying it. 

Nightwing seemed to notice as well. He dropped his hand and changed tactics. 

“I could use some help though,” he said. It was interesting to watch everyone’s reaction to that. Connor’s glare lessened. M’gann’s feet touched the ground. Artemis uncrossed her arms. Kaldur’s eyes widened slightly. Roy…well Roy didn’t move, but Wally was pretty sure there was nothing Dick could do or say to prevent the archer’s ire at this point. 

Wally wasn’t fooled in the slightest. Sure, Batman’s brood didn’t ask for help, but the redhead would bet his next three meals that the request was made to avoid continued discussion over a true need for help.

Well points to Nightwing. Dick always did know how to sweettalk himself out of trouble. 

“I’ve been tracking this new drug. It’s an opiate mixed with trace amounts of a tropane alkaloid. It’s being called Smash. It’s extremely addictive and dangerous. Drug related deaths in Bludhaven have increased by 5% in the last month alone,” Nightwing continued. “There’s a supplier but so far I haven’t been able to find him or her. I need this drug off my streets.” 

Kaldur’ahm nodded. “And what would you have us do?” 

Dick shrugged. “There’s a shipment scheduled tonight. Word on the street is that the gang responsible for this drug’s arrival in my city will be there to protect it this time. Apparently, they’re a little tired of shipments going missing.” The acrobat smiled. “If you can get information from one of their goons or get a tracker on one of them, it will allow me to figure out where this drug is coming from.” 

“And then you’ll run off to the Amazon alone to take care of it?” Roy quipped. 

The innocent façade on Dick’s face cracked briefly as he glared at the man before resuming his act. 

“No,” he said. “We can take care of it together.” 

Kaldur rested a hand on Red Arrow’s arm. 

“We will take care of it, my friend,” Aqualad said. “Allow yourself to rest.” 

Looking at the Atlantean, Wally thought the advice was fairly hypocritical. The YJ team leader clearly needed respite as well. Glancing back at Dick, one problem at a time. Why was he friends with a bunch of workaholics again?

As Dick started to give more information about the drugs and the gang leaders, Artemis caught her fiancé’s eye. He knew that look. She wanted to talk to him away from prying ears.

Wally raced towards Artemis, picked her up, and carried her to spot in the Batcave that was hidden from the cameras and wouldn’t cause an echo – Dick had showed it to him years ago. 

Setting Artemis down, he gazed into those beautiful grey eyes. She was worried about something. 

“What’s up, beautiful?” 

Artemis closed her eyes and leaned into him. “Wally, I – I” she began. 

“You don’t want to go back to retirement,” he said. He had been afraid of this since Dick approached them for that undercover meeting.

Artemis shook her head. “I can’t.”

There was so much his fiancée wasn’t saying, but Wally wouldn’t fight her on this. At least not right now. He’d been surprised that she agreed to go full civilian the first time. The love of his life looked up at him pleadingly. There was a question she wasn’t asking. 

Plastering a smile he didn’t completely feel, the speedster brought his left hand to eye level. He tapped the new ring with his thumb. “You’re stuck with me forever, babe.” 

The blonde smiled at him. Wally knew he would do anything in his power to keep her smiling at him. 

“Just don’t die on me, okay?” 

The archer punched him lightly. “I’m not the one who disappeared for over a month.” 

Had it really been a month? It had felt like an eternity and a day. 

Studying his face, she asked, “What happened?” 

Wally smiled. “Oh, you know I ran for a long time. A speedster’s paradise really.” 

He knew Artemis didn’t believe him. Instead of calling him out though, she pulled him into a tight hug. 

“We’ll get through this.” 

Wally wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince but he wrapped his arms around her and held her until she was ready to face the team. 

Zipping them back into the room, they head Dick say, “Red Arrow has dealt with them before. He can show you the lay of the land before tonight.” 

Roy glared at the acrobat in response and gave a grunt of acknowledgment. 

Nightwing continued, “I can run the computers from here. You’re going to need a hacker.”

“They have one.” Batgirl stepped into the room with a no nonsense look on her face, although Wally wasn’t sure when she had stepped out to change. “You are going to stay in that bed and rest, or I will inform Alfred.” 

Dick’s expression was murderous, but he nodded. 

Wally really really loved that woman. 

Red Arrow smirked at the female redhead. Wally mentally recruited him to his make Dick date someone who can handle his idiocy crusade. 

The team began sending their farewells, promises to return, and threats of dismemberment should Dick not stay in that bed. Wally really wasn’t listening. He pulled Artemis into another hug and kissed her forehead. 

“I’ll be fine, Wall-Man,” she reassured him. “There’s five of us on a mission Nightwing would have handled solo. It’s unnecessary overkill, but-” She shrugged. 

Wally understood. All of them wanted to help Nightwing in a tangible way. 

“Just come back to me,” he said. 

Artemis pulled out of the hug and flipped her Tigress mask on. 

“I intend to.” 

The team shuffled out, leaving Wally alone with his best friend. Looking at Dick, the redhead could feel the chaotic swirl of emotions inside of him. Unlike the people Wally loved, he had never felt the need to deny his feelings. Except there was too much anger and fear for Wally to be a productive part of this much needed conversation. His head had been spinning ever since Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris brought him out of the speed force. 

Doing his best to ignore his inner turmoil, Wally sat down in the chair Barbara had been using and swung his feet up onto Dick’s cot. He grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV. 

“Wally, I-”

“Shut up,” he interrupted, refusing to look at Dick. “We need to have a long conversation, which I would prefer not to do while I want to punch your face.” 

The vehemence in his own tone surprised Wally. The anger and fear warred inside of him. Dick could have died, and no one was watching him because Wally was gone. Nightwing had dragged Tigress back into crime fighting, and Wally’s hopes for a normal life went up in smoke. Plus, there was the whole speed force hell, which he wasn’t going to think about. Ever. It was over. He was home. 

The speedster turned his attention to some weird commercial for cat litter. He hoped there was something on the TV that could distract his brain at least until the boiling lava racing through his veins cooled. 

Two minutes later, Wally shut the TV off in frustration. Whatever. Patience had never been his thing. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Dick though. He was too afraid that his fragile self-control would snap as soon as he faced him again. 

“So…Did you get married in the speed force or something?” Dick’s voice interrupted Wally’s thoughts. 

The speedster turned to look at his friend. There was an impish smile on the ebony-haired man’s face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

He laughed, not realizing until that moment how much he needed to hear one of Dick Grayson’s stupid jokes. 

Right. Dick could read him too. 

“Actually,” Wally said. “Artemis proposed.” 

There’s a flash of hurt on the acrobat’s face. 

“How long have you been back?” 

Wally sighed, hating where his friend’s thoughts were going. 

He kept his voice light. “An hour or so, I think. Time’s still kinda fuzzy.” 

The red-haired young adult wasn’t sure his friend heard him though because Dick was already shaking his head and apologizing. 

Wally pressed on, ignoring him. 

“Yup,” he said popping the ‘p’ loudly over Dick’s incessant self-incrimination. “She asked me seconds after I popped back into the world in front of the team.” His green eyes take on a manic glow before delivering his final words. “And Batman.” 

Something clicked in the original Robin’s brain because he stopped mumbling his string of apologies, looked at his friend, and then cackled. 

“Man, I would have paid to see that.” 

The stab in the heart hit Wally faster than he would have liked.

“You should have been there,” he said. 

The hard-earned laughter was gone, and the room returned to its former oppressive weight. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing!” Wally yelled in frustration. Dick flinched, and the speedster regretted his words. Why was talking to his best friend such a minefield? “Let’s talk about why you weren’t.” 

One did not need to know Dick Grayson well for them to see that that was the last thing he wanted to discuss. Wally lightly kicked the leg closest to his feet on the bed, gaining Dick’s attention. 

“I seem to recall a promise about this never happening again, and another one a year later after I kept your secret against my better judgment.”

Dick’s face was mutinous. 

“It didn’t happen again. The only time was a-” Dick’s eyes looked away. “A mistake,” he finished. “The incident after Jason was not the same.” 

“Still a mistake though,” Wally finished, dropping the familiar argument. 

The Romani nodded. 

“Nightwing doesn’t make the same mistake twice,” Wally stated. “Explain to me why this has happened again.” 

Dick refused to look at the speedster and the two sat in silence way longer than Wally appreciated, but sometimes you had to wait Nightwing out. 

“Do you hate me?” His best friend asked quietly. 

Wally sat up so quickly he nearly gave himself vertigo. 

“No!” He gasped for breath. “Why would you ever think that?” 

The teenager was playing with thread of the blanket again, still refusing to look at Wally. 

“I brought Artemis back into crime fighting,” he said and then added in a whisper, “I got you killed.” 

“You didn’t get me killed.” Dick was trying to protest, but Wally continued speaking, cutting Dick off. “I made a choice to help Flash and Impulse save the world.” 

“But I should have done better. If I handled the invasion better, if I hadn’t-”

“You’re not God, Dick. You can’t control everything.”

The acrobat mumbled, “You don’t believe in God.”

Wally shrugged. He hadn’t believed in God. Probably still didn’t. But if hell existed, did that mean heaven did? He’d think about those implications later. 

“Missing the point,” he said as he nudged Dick’s foot again. “I am furious with you.” _And terrified you’re going to get yourself killed._ “But I don’t hate you.”

Dick didn’t say anything, just went back to staring at his hands. Fear won out over anger. 

There was a question he needed to ask, but he really didn’t want to. Really didn’t. 

He sighed. Took a deep breath and jumped off the deep end. 

“Dick, do you want to be alive?” 

Scared blue eyes shot up at Wally. There was a hesitation before –

“Of course, I do.” 

But the lie was too late. They both knew it. 

“I’m going to have to tell Bruce.” 

Somehow Dick’s eyes widened even further. His mouth opened, and he shook his head back and forth.

“You can’t! You promised,” Dick cried. 

Anger raced through Wally’s veins again. 

“Yeah well, you promised this wouldn’t happen again!” 

Dick’s next reply was cut off by a voice behind Wally. 

“Tell me what?” Batman asked. 

Bruce Wayne’s son panicked in a way Wally had never seen before. Dick was pushing into the mattress, scrambling away. Batman ignored the speedster, and moved to his son’s side. He calmed Dick in a way only Bruce could, but the dark knight was still looking expectedly at Wally. The dark-haired man still protested, but the objections were weaker. 

Right. 

The redhead gulped. 

He should have done this years ago, but staring into that cowl Wally couldn’t find the words. 

“Um,” Wally started successfully. His lightning fast tongue felt like lead in his mouth. “Dick’s attempted.” He tried to force the word out, but he couldn’t. Looking at Dick who seemed to be torn from his desire to run away and his desire to cling to the dark vigilante for life, Wally couldn’t do this. He settled for repeating himself. “Dick’s attempted before.” 

Batman seemed to understand him though because he collapsed. Well, his knees buckled, and he sat in the chair next to Dick’s bed, letting go of his son’s hand in the process.

The loss of physical contact seemed to rattle something in Dick’s brain because he tried to move further from both of them again.

“I didn’t,” he cried. “It was a mistake. It hadn’t happened. Just ignore him, Bruce.” 

Batman ignored Dick and turned his gaze on Wally. 

“When?” His voice sounded more like a sob than a question. 

That broke something in Wally. Batman shouldn’t sound like that. Wally West broke Batman. This was bad. Very bad. Maybe he should have kept his stupid mouth shut. 

“When?” Batman repeated more in control this time. 

But Wally still heard it, and he was pretty sure he’d never unhear it. 

He rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Three years ago.” 

“What happened?” 

Green eyes flicked back to Dick, who appeared to just _stop_. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t running. He just looked defeated. Wally hated it. This wasn’t what he wanted. He was just trying to help. 

Batman growled, “Wallace, what happened?”

It was too late now. 

“I found him on the Brooklyn Bridge. He was going to jump.” 

“Why wasn’t I informed?” 

_Because the whole damn thing had been your fault, you ass._

At least Wally was smart enough not to say that part aloud. 

“I thought it was handled. Dick promised it wouldn’t happen again.” 

Batman finally turned to his son, who still wasn’t moving. Wally was getting more terrified by the second that he had somehow shattered Nightwing forever. 

The older man seemed to come to sort of a decision. 

“Wallace, you need to inform your parents that you are alive. Then you need to reassure your aunt and uncle that you are okay before I end up with more speedsters in my cave.” 

Wally stuttered. He wasn’t sure he should leave right now because he was fairly certain he had just decimated the original dynamic duo. 

Dick’s defeated voice decided him. 

“Just go, Wally.” 

The original Kid Flash ran out of the cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stand by my previous word. This fic is not going to be about a suicide attempt. Dick will not intentionally attempt suicide during this fic. However, his actions are borderline suicidal because he has been trying to get himself killed. I say this because suicide contagions are a real issue. I will not be portraying suicide as glorious, an escape, or a justifiable means of handling an issue. Next chapter, even Dick will tell you his previous actions were a mistake. Dick is dealing with depression and he struggles with wanting to be alive, but he won't make another attempt on his life. I'll explain more next chapter, but I thought that was important to clear up. 
> 
> I was kinda surprised at how difficult it was for me to get into Wally's head. The poor kid is dealing with a lot and his emotions and thoughts are rattled because of his month long trip into speed force hell. At least, he has Artemis because she is the best. 
> 
> Any guesses on why Wally blames Bruce for Dick's attempt? (And no, it's not because Dick was fired from Robin or kicked out. I'm rejecting those as not a part of the YJ timeline.) 
> 
> Like Dick, you probably have a lot more people who care about you than you realize. If you need to talk to someone, I can listen, but there are trained counselors available 24/7 at 1-800-273-8255.


	14. Chapter 13: Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dick is in denial, and Bruce tries to be a good dad.

Nightwing didn’t panic. That basic skill had been trained into him and was even more essential than his ability to escape any bond he’d ever been placed in. If you panicked, you were dead. Except he couldn’t control the foreign fear that overrode his brain when Wally decided to be helpful by telling Batman that Dick had attempted suicide before, which wasn’t even _true_. He’d be angry at his friend except his brain wasn’t processing anything that wasn’t denials and attempts to flee. He needed to get himself under control, but his brain refused to cooperate.

Hearing Batman sob a question gave Dick the final motivation to climb out of the hole his mind had trapped him in. He knew he needed to get his mind under control and fast. Ignoring the conversation around him, Dick focused on his breathing. He stilled his body until his mind felt less like it was stuck on a Tilt-A-Whirl ride. 

Vaguely, he heard Batman dismiss Wally, but Dick could feel the nervous energy vibrating next to him. His friend’s presence would not help at all, especially if Wally was the one to tell the story. The redhead made a much bigger deal out of what happened because he still wasn’t traught.

“Just go, Wally,” Dick said. 

Less than two seconds after the speedster’s quick exit, Batman demanded answers. 

“Explain.”

Dick’s eyes flicked up to Batman’s cowl. Anger clung to him like a security blanket. 

“I’m not having this conversation with Batman.” 

Bruce removed the mask, and behind the carefully constructed neutral guise, there was fear and worry. 

_Thank you, Wally. I really needed this._

“Dick, what happened?” Bruce asked.

Dick sighed. As much as he wanted the anger to stay, he didn’t have the emotional capacity to cling to it. 

“First off, I didn’t actually attempt suicide. I wouldn’t do that,” Dick said, twirling the blue yarn around his fingers. He didn’t need to look up to know Bruce was studying him. 

“Tell me what happened and why Wally thinks you did.” The voice was calm and subdued. This was the voice that had calmed his nightmares as a child. It instantly soothed him. The last vestiges of anger left him, and Dick just felt exhausted and empty.

Looking up at the man, Dick stated plainly. “I overreacted.” 

The billionaire arched one eyebrow in perfect imitation of his butler. 

“You’re going to have to explain that, chum.” 

Dick had zero desire to do so. The whole thing had happened three years ago, and the acrobat kept it far from his memory. He didn’t like to think about that night.

He struggled to find the right words in any of the languages his spoke.

“Son,” Bruce began.

“Don’t.” Dick’s tone was venom. “Stop calling me that.” 

His guardian froze, the next word half out of his mouth, resembling a fish. There was a time Dick knew he would have cackled at the sight. 

The Romani wasn’t sure there ever would be a time again. He missed the old him, wondered if he was lost forever. 

“You adopted Jason, not me,” Dick explained. 

They had never talked about it. Bruce hadn’t even been the one to tell his ward. It was Jason, a ball of uncontrollable energy that had hug tackled him and shouted joyfully that they were officially brothers. Dick hadn’t had the heart to explain that they weren’t. 

The acrobat had been stealing himself to apologize to Bruce for their latest fight, which Dick was at least partially at fault, but instead he had ruffled Jason’s hair, smiled, and drove his bike to Brooklyn. 

Bruce snapped his jaw shut and left the room. 

There were a lot of ways for Batman to handle this conversation. The original Robin wished he was a little more surprised that the man had chosen to abandon Dick. Should he leave the cave? Bruce had to be more than done with his failures. 

But he wasn’t sure where he would go. The Watchtower was not an option, way too many concerned citizens there. Alfred would be at his apartment in Bludhaven an hour after Dick. 

He would have to figure out his destination later, but if he was going to leave, he’d need pants. The raven-haired man hobbled out of bed with much less grace than usual. Careful to keep weight off his injured knee, he searched the room for pants. He found a pair of sweat pants in a drawer and struggled to put them on. 

How much pain medicine did Alfred have him on? 

“What are you doing?” Bruce barked at him. “Get back in bed.” 

Surprised to see him returned, dressed as Bruce no less, Dick complied. 

“Three years ago, Jason’s adoption became official. Am I correct in assuming that this event is what you overreacted to?” The billionaire’s tone reminded Dick of board rooms. It was somewhere between Batman’s no-nonsense tone and Bruce Wayne’s business shark tone. Despite years of discerning Bruce through the cowl, Dick could not place the emotion behind the words. 

The younger man nodded. 

A manila envelope was thrust into his hands. 

“What’s this?”

“Open it,” his father figure ordered. 

The younger man pulled out a stack of papers. His hands shook when he realized what he was holding: adoption papers for Richard John Grayson. There were four different copies updated for dates, will-changes, and his age. The first was dated a little over a year after Bruce brought him to the manor. The last was dated a month before his eighteenth birthday. 

“I – Bruce, I” he stumbled over his words. 

“The first time was your second Father’s Day in the manor. You had managed to convince Alfred you wouldn’t destroy his kitchen if you were allowed to make pancakes. You somehow managed to get pancake batter on the ceiling and were subsequently banned from all unsupervised kitchen use.” Bruce kept the same indiscernible tone, but his lips tugged up into a small smile at the memory. Dick knew a younger him, a less broken version of himself would have smiled with Bruce at the memory of the unflappable butler becoming very flapped - but all Dick could feel is the unending hole that he has been trying to keep at bay for so long. 

“I had thought the day an appropriate time to make our arrangement official, but then you came up to me after dinner with a craft you made for me and said, ‘Thanks for not trying to replace my father.’ I realized you were not ready, and my motivations were entirely selfish, so I put the papers away.” 

The acrobat’s chest was tight, and he could feel water build in his eyes. 

Sitting on the bed, his father placed a hand on his leg as he continued, “The second time, it was six months after you had called me ‘Dad’ without flinching afterwards. You had told me that you loved me eighth months prior and stated that you were glad that you came to live with me and Alfred, despite the circumstances being less than ideal. You assured me that your parents would have approved of me.” 

Bruce squeezed his son’s leg. “Then you were shot by the Joker, and I wondered if staying with me was truly the best choice. I left the papers in my desk.” 

Dick felt tears spill over. He was unprepared for this. 

“The third time, I had arranged to have both your and Jason’s adoptions done at the same time. But three days before, you told me that you were glad I wasn’t your real father before storming off to Bludhaven again.” 

Dick was crying freely now. He had been an absolute jerk that night. Looking back, he couldn’t remember what had set him off, but he still remembered the anger and the need for Bruce to hurt as much as he did. 

“The final time was a month before your eighteenth birthday. I wanted you to understand you always had a place here, no matter what.” Bruce shook his head. “But I doubted myself. I wondered if it was too little too late. Our relationship seemed stable enough and I didn’t want to risk a confrontation if it could be avoided.” 

The acrobat threw himself into his father’s arms. He was an absolute idiot. 

Bruce carefully helped him lay back down. 

“If you keep lunging like that you’re going to pull your stitches.” 

Dick wiped his nose with the back of his hand. 

“Worth it,” he said. 

Bruce handed him a tissue.

“I can have a fresh document drawn up tomorrow if you’d like.”

The younger man nodded. 

“Consider it done.” Bruce nodded as well. “Now, I’d like if you explained to me why Wally thinks you attempted suicide.”

Dick groaned. Did Batman take lessons in how to spoil moments? 

“Bruce, it was three years ago. Let it go.” 

“Dick.” It wasn’t Batman’s growl yet, but the original Robin knew where this was heading. 

Alright, fine. He might as well get this over with as quickly as possible. 

“Jason told me you adopted him. I took my bike for a ride and ended up on the bridge. I thought about jumping, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t.” 

Bruce lips pursed. He leaned forward, studying his son. 

“You’re intentionally leaving information out.” 

Dick flopped his head back onto the pillow. Staring up at the ceiling, he spoke, “I did stand in a position that suggested I would jump, but I realized I was being an idiot, and I called Wally. He was there in less than three minutes.” 

Wally, in his rush, had almost knocked them both off the bridge. Dick had never seen his best friend so scared before. The two had talked about it extensively. The younger teenager had promised he wouldn’t attempt again, and the redhead watched the raven-haired boy for a long time. 

He heard Bruce swallow before his next statement. 

“Dick, that sounds like an attempt.” 

“No.” Dick’s tone was firm. “No, I didn’t jump. I had a plan and I thought about it. I didn’t attempt.” 

The distinction was crucial to Dick. Besides, he knew, looking back, he hadn’t actually wanted to die then. The feeling was too painfully different from what he currently felt. The truth was – Dick realized later, after he knew what wanting to die actually felt like, after Jason was ripped away, after the invasion, after he realized he was a worthless failure – Dick hadn’t wanted to die that night. He wanted to know that even if Bruce couldn’t love him, someone would. It was stupid. It was desperate. He hated himself for it.

“Okay.” Bruce’s tone was the one he used to settle lost children on patrol.

Dick hated it. 

“Okay,” Bruce repeated. “I’m not going to argue semantics.” 

“It’s not semantics,” Dick hissed.

Bruce raised his hands in a calming gesture. “Okay.” 

Dick ignored him and rolled over. 

“How are you feeling right now?”

“Fine.” 

Dick heard his father figure sigh. 

Wanting to end this conversation, he added. “I am tired. I think I’ll take a nap.” 

A hand returned to his leg and squeezed. “Okay, Dick.” 

The mathematical genius didn’t uncurl until his guardian left the room. He yawned and realized he was tired. A nap did sound good. He was out before his revenge on Wally could be fully formulated. 

 

Alfred woke Dick up with a bowl of chicken broth and a protein shake. Dick scowled at the food. 

“If you wanted something more appetizing, than you shouldn’t have allowed your stomach to shrink. I’m not going to cook something that will be regurgitated shortly after,” Alfred informed him. 

It wasn’t this particular food that repulsed Dick, it was the act of eating all together. He wasn’t stupid enough to voice that thought in front of Alfred…again. At least, even Alfred’s broth was amazing. 

“Don’t worry, Alf. I’m going to eat it all,” Dick said with a smile. 

“Hmmm.” 

Dick ignored Alfred’s tone and kept his best charismatic smile on his face. The acrobat ate his food cheerfully as the butler fussed over him. 

The young adult waited until the older man finished before pursuing his questioning.

“So Alf,” Dick began, rubbing the back of his neck. “do you happen to know where a certain object that Bruce would throw a fit over ended up?” 

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “You are referring to your Glock 22?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I had it disassembled and destroyed.” 

Ugh. Jennifer Park was going to kill him. 

“That belonged to the BPD,” Dick whined. 

“Perhaps, you should have thought of that before being careless with the item in question. However, if necessary, I can cover the expense of the item,” Alfred replied. 

Dick closed his eyes and groaned. That would go over well with Officer Park. _I lost the gun you gave me, but here’s a check._

“Is there anything else you require, Master Dick?” 

The acrobat gave up on his false exuberance. “No.” 

The butler left, taking the lunch tray with him. 

 

Sunday night as Batman and Robin prepared for patrol, Dick planned for a fight. He needed to guarantee that Bruce wouldn’t come down to the cave Monday morning. Besides, nothing would make Bruce more suspicious than Dick listening to him. 

Placing a mask on his face, Nightwing hobbled out of the medbay. He plastered his best vigilante grin on his face. 

“No,” Batman growled before his original protégé could say anything. 

“Hey,” Dick said as he raised his arms in a placating gesture. “I know I’m benched, but I can handle the coms.” 

The dark knight stared at him for a long hard minute before nodding. 

“Wait. What?” 

“As long as you stay seated, I’ll allow it.” 

That certainly threw a wrinkle in his plans. How was he supposed to pick a fight if Batman didn’t bite? The Romani collapsed into the computer chair, blindly reaching for the headset. Bruce’s face appeared in front of him. 

“Dick, is there something you need to tell me?” 

Oh. Right. Alfred had forced the acrobat to reveal his best manipulation technique. He’d have to go back to the drawing board. It’s not like his father was emotionally intelligent enough to discover new exploitations without help.

“No, I’m fine. Just didn’t expect you to agree with me.” 

Bruce squeezed his shoulder before replacing his cowl. “We will talk later.” 

Joy. 

Batman and Robin left for patrol, and Alfred appeared with another protein shake. Dick was really starting to hate those stupid shakes. He knew better than to voice his opinion on the matter.

His phone buzzed with a text from Wally.

_You going to stay mad forever?_

Nightwing ignored the text in favor of listening in on patrol. Apparently, a drug problem was beginning in Gotham as well, although, smash had yet to show up; there seemed to be a new guy on the scene with a fetish for motorcycle jackets. 

His phone buzzed again. 

_You can’t ignore me forever._

_I was just trying to help._

Dick replied quickly. _Did you have to bring Bruce into it?_

_Dude, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed._

The vigilante threw the phone down on the desk in frustration. Why would no one believe that he wasn’t suicidal?

Okay, yes. He didn’t want to be alive. But the newest Wayne wasn’t going to kill himself. This darkness would pass, just like it did after Jason. The acrobat just needed time. 

The device vibrated with another incoming message.

_I’ll bring over pizza and movies tomorrow night?_

_Don’t you have a fiancée to entertain you?_

_Well *someone* sent her on a mission._

_They’re not back?_

Nightwing immediately pulled up the files on the batcomputer. The acrobat hadn’t checked earlier because he doubted he’d be allowed onto the computers without a fight. The mission report hadn’t been updated. His phone buzzed with more texts from Wally.

_They found the gang and are tracking the supply route with the bioship._

_The team probably just wanted to make sure you stayed safe._

Dick growled in frustration. He slammed his fist onto the desk. 

He didn’t need the team making sure he stayed safe. This was why he stayed distant from everyone. People overreacted. 

_So pizza tomorrow night?_

Dick laughed despite his annoyance. Even through his journey through the speed force, Wally stayed the same. 

_I doubt that’s on Alfred’s approved diet plan._

_*shrug* I’ll just bring Zombie Takeover 4-6 and my lovely presence._

_I think you knocked a screw loose in the speed force. No one describes your presence as lovely._

_You wound me with your words. See you tomorrow?_

_Okay_

:)  


_You’re a dork._

__

__

_Yet you love me anyway._

The Romani didn’t respond to the last message. Despite everything, he at least felt somewhat normal engaging with Wally. It was like his old self snuck through the cracks of the all-consuming darkness around his best friend. 

A few hours later, Batman and Robin returned to the cave. Nightwing heard Robin whining before he exited the Batmobile. 

“It’s just a scratch.”

Batman growled, “Alfred will be the judge of that.” 

Tim stomped over to the medbay where Alfred began inspecting his wound. 

Nightwing turned toward his mentor. “Leather Jacket gave you the slip?” 

“He’s highly trained,” Batman replied. 

Dick yawned. “A case to crack. Sounds like fun.” 

“You need to go to bed,” Batman said as he started stripping of his armor. 

“I’m fine. It’s not like I have anything to be up for tomorrow morning.” 

Bruce cocked an eyebrow. “You mean you weren’t planning on sneaking off to the Bludhaven Police Academy tomorrow morning.” 

“What? How- I mean, no,” Dick sputtered. 

“I’m Batman,” his father said with a smug smirk. His gaze turned towards Robin. “And I happen to have a very intelligent partner.” 

“I have to go. It’s my job,” the Romani said through gritted teeth. He’d deal with Tim’s treachery later. 

“Okay,” Bruce shrugged. 

“You can’t control my li- wait. What?” 

“I’m not going to stop you. But should you choose to go, you’ll have to deal with the consequences of your actions.” 

“I- what?” 

Bruce didn’t respond because he had disappeared into the locker rooms to shower. 

Nightwing needed to talk with Robin. He approached the medical cot with a relaxed smile. Alfred was stitching together a slice on the teenager’s arm. 

“Hey Timmy, how are you feeling?” The older vigilante asked. 

“I’m fine. It really doesn’t hurt that much,” the newest bird responded. 

“Well, Alf knows what he’s doing.” Dick hopped up on the bed next to his little brother. “It doesn’t look too bad.” 

“It isn’t,” Alfred replied as he finished the stitches. “Just taking precautions. Now are there any injuries Master Bruce is trying to hide?”

Robin shook his head.

“Very well. Then I shall retire for the night. Good night, young sirs,” the elderly man replied before leaving the two alone. 

“I should head to bed myself.” 

Dick reached around and grabbed Tim’s uninjured arm. 

“Not so fast, Timmybird. We need to talk.” 

Tim feigned ignorance. “About what?” 

“About the fact that Bruce is not behaving like Bruce.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Tim, what did you do?”

Robin bit his lip. Dick reached up and gently tugged at his lip, forcing the teenager to stop. “You know that’s a tell, right?” 

“I gave Bruce research on how to care for someone struggling with depression.” 

“I don’t have depression.” 

Tim gave his older brother a look of complete disbelief. 

“I don’t,” Dick repeated forcefully. 

“Well, that’s why he’s acting differently. Plus, we discussed how you pick fights to get what you want.”

“I- what? Timmy, that’s not true.” 

“Okay,” Tim conceded. “But that’s what we talked about.”

“So what? Bruce isn’t going to fight with me?” 

Tim shrugged. “I don’t know what B is going to do.” 

Dick ran a hand through his hair. “Tim, would you talk to me first next time?” 

“I would have if you hadn’t decided to avoid me.” 

“Timmy,” Dick cried. “I wasn’t avoiding you.” 

His brother didn’t say anything. The younger raven-haired boy stood up to leave. 

The Romani stood with him and pulled him into a hug. “Wally’s coming over for movies tomorrow. Why don’t you join us, Timbo?”

Tim nodded and left. Dick collapsed onto the bed. Apparently, he had messed up his relationship with Timmy as well. He’d need to fix that but tomorrow. He was tired, and he had a long day planned for tomorrow.

 

Despite the absolute absurdity from the residents at Wayne Manor, Dick was still surprised that no one prevented him from using the Zeta tubes to go to Bludhaven. The BPD cadet left early enough to sneak into a local gun shop to replace his Glock, he left the money, plus a little extra for the trouble on the counter. He’d have to leave the gun in his locker at the academy, but at least he won’t be chewed out and flunked for losing the weapon. 

The morning went smoothing, he managed to charm Officer Park into letting him do three times as many pull-ups instead of sit-ups. As long as he could avoid aggravating his stitches, he would be fine. Dick figured the rest of the day would go smoothly until Officer Park yelled for him.

“Grayson! My office!” 

The beginnings of dread started to form in the acrobat’s stomach. When he headed inside and saw Bruce sitting in the waiting room with one foot resting on the other knee, reading a newspaper, and smiling in full Brucie mood, the dread formed into a cold ball. 

Avoiding the billionaire, he stepped into his commanding officer’s office and shut the door. 

He threw on his best charismatic smile. “How can I be of service, ma’am?”

“I know you’re the son of a billionaire, and you’re not used to rules applying to you, but I’m disappointed in you, Grayson,” Jennifer Park informed him.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, ma’am,” Dick replied. 

“Drop the innocent act, Grayson,” the Chinese woman growled at him. “You deliberately withheld pertinent medical information.” 

What. The acrobat had no idea what game Bruce was playing. 

“I’m not sure I under-“ 

“Cut the crap, Rookie,” Officer Park interrupted. “You were diagnosed with mononucleosis a week ago, and you did not report it. If that were not enough, you neglected to inform the academy that your doctor specifically ordered rest and zero strenuous exercise for three weeks. Not to mention the enlarged spleen that could rupture through contact exercise.” 

That bastard. 

“Ma’am, I don’t know-“ 

“Save it, Grayson,” the Chinese woman continued. “You’re officially on medical leave of absence until I have a doctor’s note clearing you for duty.” 

Dick made a strangled noise. How could Bruce do this? 

Officer Jennifer Park stared at him for a long moment when she continued her voice was much softer. 

“I know what it’s like to choose a career that your parents don’t approve of but endangering your health and lying about isn’t the way to get there. You’re good, Rookie, very good. Rest up, and come back. I’m not letting you go that easy.” 

The Romani nodded and left the room. He didn’t want to speak with his newly-made father because he would punch him. 

Bruce put down the newspaper as Dick approached, fists clenched. 

“Oh, and Grayson, I’m impounding your bike,” Officer Park’s voice called out from behind him.

“Why?” He growled in response. 

“Reckless driving. I warned you after the first time. You can have your father or someone else pick it up later. Just be glad I’m not suspending your license,” she told him. 

Dick knew he was seconds from punching his fist through a wall or his guardian’s face. 

Bruce stood up and put a hand on his shoulder, which the younger man had to fight not to shrug off. He would not appear as a sulking teenager in front of his boss. 

“I’ll take him home and send someone for the motorcycle,” Bruce replied. 

Father and son left the police academy. Getting into the car, the billionaire immediately tried to start a conversation.

“Don’t,” Dick cut him off. “Just don’t. I have nothing to say to you.” 

“Dick, I’m trying to protect you,” Bruce said as he drove into traffic. 

Dick seethed. “No, you are trying to control me.” 

Bruce’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. He didn’t speak for several minutes. The acrobat slouched in his seat, glaring out the window. 

“I’m worried about you,” the older man admitted. 

“Don’t be. I’m fine,” he replied. 

The billionaire erupted. “You are not fine. Dammit Dick. You lost fifty pounds in seven months. You haven’t been sleeping. You’re recklessly endangering yourself on patrol. And now, I find out you’ve attempted before.” 

Dick felt fire flare up throughout his veins. 

“I didn’t attempt,” he hissed.

“Fine,” Bruce growled. “You had a plan, but didn’t follow through. And now you’re acting like you want to die.” His tone dropped from the anger and sounded almost lost. “I’m worried, Dick. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.” 

Try as he might, the Romani could not hold onto his anger with Bruce’s foreign tone. He would not be responsible for Batman’s fall. 

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said quietly. 

Bruce’s eyes flicked to him before returning to the road. “I’m glad to hear that, chum.” 

There was a heavy silence in the car that lasted most of the way back to the manor. Bruce broke it as he entered the key code at the gate. 

“I need to ask you a question, and I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that, chum?” Bruce questioned. 

Dick stared at his hands, dreading the inquiry his guardian would make, but the tones the billionaire had been using lately had shaken something inside of him. He began to fear that he was responsible for breaking Batman in a way the criminals never could. The younger vigilante nodded slowly. 

“Dick,” Bruce said, taking a deep breath before completing his question. “Do you want to be alive?” 

Dick paused, wondering how to answer this question, before deciding on honesty. 

“No, not really.” 

“Oh, Dickie,” his father said, parking the car and then throwing his arms around his son in one of the most awkward hugs Dick has had in his life. “We’ll get through this.”

The younger man broke the contact first. “I’m tired,” he said. “I think I’ll just go take a nap.” 

Bruce stared at his son for a long minute before nodding. 

Hiding in his room, Dick used the in-suite bathroom. As he washed his hands, he caught a look at himself in the mirror. He looked terrible. The Wayne heir started to understand why everyone was concerned. Irrational and uncontrollable anger erupted. He punched the mirror, shattering the glass and denting the wall behind it. 

For one short second, he felt in control of his life. Then he looked at the smashed mirror and his bleeding knuckles. Alfred was going to kill him, and Bruce was going to file this under more reasons to be worried about Nightwing’s sanity. 

He pulled the glass out of his hand and grabbed gauze from his first-aid kit under the sink. He wrapped his hand and crawled into bed. He just needed some sleep. He could figure out a plan to deal with everything after a few hours of rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to get this one up earlier because I wanted to explain that last chapter. 
> 
> So funny story, I spent a bunch of time researching rare and curable diseases for Bruce to pretend to give Dick, and then I ended up settling on mono, which isn't rare, but mono has the benefit of accounting for Dick's visible symptoms and being common enough to not arouse suspicion. Plus, people are advised to not engage in contact sports for at least four weeks with mono, so it fit. 
> 
> I really hoped y'all enjoyed this chapter. Bruce is trying so hard to be a good dad. More Wally, Dick, and Tim bonding next chapter.
> 
> Last but not least, a few of you have asked about the amazon mission. I've decided that it will work best as it's own separate oneshot. I'm debating about doing it from Dick or Wally's perspective, let me know if you have a preference.


	15. Chapter 14: Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tim is an excellent Robin and a good brother, yet doesn't realize either.

Tim Drake needed this plan to be successful because his big brother was broken, and Tim couldn’t fix him – but maybe Wally could. The newest Robin watched the various members of YJ exit the room, but Tim stayed glued to his spot next to Batman. He needed this to work. If nothing but the sheer force of his concentration, Robin would will this to work. It couldn’t not work. 

When the first hour passed with no sign of the speedsters the teenager didn’t worry. Things took time. It would be difficult for a non-speedster in the speed force. There was nothing to fret over. He reassured himself with the same clear logic after the second hour. 

It wasn’t until the third hour neared, that Tim began to worry, but it was nothing compared to the tangible fret emitting from Kid Flash as he literally wore a hole in the floor. (Were speedsters able to pay for all the material they destroyed simply by using their powers?) 

Batman looked down at Robin, which was when he realized he had be scuffing his boot on the floor. Tim instantly stilled. Then his mentor motioned with his chin toward the child speedster. Robin heard the message loud and clear: Distract Kid Flash. 

Bart slowed his pacing as Tim approached. 

“Do you think you could get us to Mount Rushmore and back before they return?” 

There was a brief flicker of something on Bart’s face that Tim couldn’t identify because it was gone too quickly, yet he guessed it was suspicion. Right. Mount Rushmore wasn’t a common destination, but Robin had been doing a school project on the legacy of Abraham Lincoln. Plus, he figured it probably hadn’t still been around in that hellish future Bart had grown up in. But luckily for Tim, speedsters were notoriously easy to distract. Whatever flashed across the younger boy’s face was gone, and Tim was picked up and rushed out of the room. 

_Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up._

Robin hated traveling via speedster. A normal body was not supposed to be subjected to these types of speeds. Tim had done the math. He had even showed it to Dick to double check the equations. The older man took one look at the equations, ruffled the boy’s raven-locks, and quipped, “Not everything follows the rules, Timbo.”- as if that were an acceptable answer to the quandary.

Next, Robin showed his calculations to Batman, which the man had barely glanced at and said, “I don’t travel via speedster.” Tim had decided, at least, Bruce’s answer had logic to it and vowed not to travel via speedster either – until Dick had bet him a month worth of Batcave cleanup that he would throw up if Wally carried him coast to coast. Tim hated Batcave clean up. 

Unfortunately, Tim had vomited all over Wally before they even made it past West Virginia. The original Kid Flash had cried and turned them right back around, but the whiplash from the turn had made the new Robin regurgitate again all over the red hair in front of him. Dick had cackled at the sight of them returning. Wally’s face had matched his hair as he screamed at his supposed friend and chased him around the Batcave. Tim had ignored their antics in favor of finding a trash can. 

Robin squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of calming thoughts to ease his growing nausea. 

_Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up._

They skidded to a stop, and Robin immediately jumped off. 

“Ta-da!” Bart exclaimed. “Pretty impressive, am I right?” 

The dark-haired boy gave a thumbs-up in response, not trusting himself to open his mouth. 

“You don’t talk very much, do you?” 

Yeah sure, let’s go with that. 

“Huh. For some reason, I thought you’d be all about the sarcastic one liners,” Bart said with a shrug. “Well, maybe you grow into it. So, why Mt. Rushmore? Cuz I can think of a thousand more crash places to zip off to.” 

Tim shrugged. “I’m from Gotham. I don’t make it to the Midwest often.” 

Kid Flash gave Robin an incredulous look. “But your best friends with Superboy! Er. Well, you will be. Um. Spoilers?” 

Tim was going to become best friends with an angry clone? What did that say about him and his ability to make friends?

Robin glanced at the holocomputer in his glove. Still no word from Batman. 

And Bart was talking again. Did the kid ever just be quiet and think? 

“I mean, what’s the big deal? Pretty sure, I could carve this out of a mountain in five minutes, tops.” 

Tim ignored him. The talkative boy probably wouldn’t even notice his silence. Well, he wouldn’t have if the alarm Robin had set for the closure of the last portal hadn’t just gone off. 

“Is that? Welp. Gotta go!” 

Kid Flash vanished in a blur. Robin blinked at the spot right next to him. The speedster hadn’t just done that, had he? There was no way he had just taken off and left a fellow team member in South Dakota. 

Tim counted to twenty, but the new Kid Flash did not return. 

Robin face palmed. There wasn’t a zeta tube anywhere near here. 

Before he could figure out a plan that didn’t involve hitchhiking across multiple states, a young girl with blonde hair approached him.

“Excuse me, Robin,” she asked. 

Forcing a smile onto his face, he replied, “Yes?”

“We’re not in danger, right?” 

The smile dropped of his face. What?

“It’s just you and Kid Flash were both here, and well – I mean I don’t usually see superheroes here.”

“No, you aren’t in any danger,” he reassured her. 

“Great!” She beamed at him. “Then can I take a picture with you? When I grow up, I wanna be just like you! Mom says I have to wait until I’m older before I can save the world, and Dad says you have to be 37 to join the league. But I know that’s not true,” she laughed. 

Robin wondered what the protocol was for this. There hadn’t been a what do you do when a kid wants your picture aspect of training. Batman wouldn’t approve, but Nightwing would have been all over it. 

“Um, sure.” 

“Yay!” She pulled out a cell phone, and snapped a selfie of the two of them. (Did kids her age really need cell phones?) Then the blonde threw her arms around him and squeezed. Robin had to remind himself that she wasn’t a threat. (It’s just a hug.) 

“Robin.” His communicator beeped. 

“I have to go,” he told he girl, who nodded and skipped off. 

“Robin report,” Batman called again. 

“Here, Batman,” he replied. 

“The mission was a success. What’s your location?”

The joy Tim felt at the announcement was dimmed by having to report on his own failure. “Mount Rushmore.” 

There was a long pause, which Robin knew was Batman’s way of asking why, but the protégé wasn’t going to answer if his mentor didn’t ask. 

There was a huff of breath. 

“I’ll send Superman to collect you.” 

“Wait, no! Don’t!”

There was no response. 

Wonderful.

Timothy Drake - the only Robin to get stranded at a national monument and need to be rescued by Superman. Did his failure know no bounds? He could already see the disappointed look on Batman’s face. 

In the middle of his self-pity, Superman landed next to him. 

“I heard you could use a lift,” Clark said in lieu of greeting. 

The teenager nodded, resigned to the humility. The man grabbed him and shot for the sky. Robin’s stomach immediately lurched. 

“Could we maybe, not go so fast?” 

Superman looked down at him and slowed his pace. “Sure thing.” 

The pair flew in silence. Tim wondered if this was how it felt to be a Flying Grayson, to know gravity could not control you. Did Dick still feel this way or had his depression stolen that from him as well? 

Clark intruded on the teenager’s thoughts. “What’s bothering you?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Kid, I don’t know if you know this yet, but I’m the certified Bat wrangler for the League.” 

Tim snorted. 

“And you have a Bat brooding face.” 

The teenager scoffed in denial.

Clark gave him a skeptical look. Tim debated about telling the man. This was Dick’s Uncle Clark, and Bruce’s best friend. (Whether or not Bruce admitted it, depended on the day. But that didn’t change facts.) Tim bit his lip. 

“I’m worried about Nightwing,” he said. 

The man blinked. “He’s on leave, isn’t he?”

Why did everyone assume that meant Dick was resting? Had they met the man? 

“Is he in Bludhaven?”

“The Cave.” 

Clark nodded, and Tim realized they were descending. He hopped off the older superhero. 

Superman rested his hand on the teenager’s shoulders and said, “Robin, he’ll be okay.” 

The new vigilante wished he could believe Superman. You were supposed to be able to believe Superman. Yet, the teenager knew the Man of Steel was a hopeless optimist, who did not base his assumptions on facts. 

The pair walked into the S.T.A.R. labs facility. Batman looked up at their entry. Tim’s mentor nodded at Superman, but the boy missed the question from the superhero. 

“Robin, locate Kid Flash,” Batman ordered before he and Superman left the room to talk. 

Why was Bart missing? Shouldn’t he be celebrating the return of his grandfather? 

Glancing around the room, he noticed that there was no sign of Wally or the original YJ team. Tim hoped that meant they were all taking care of Dick. 

Robin pulled up the GPS on the tracker in Kid Flash’s uniform. Bart was running around the globe too fast to get an accurate read. 

Tim did not jump when the Flash placed a hand on his shoulders. 

“I got him,” Barry said and zipped out of the room, which left Tim nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs while he waited for Batman. Tim never did like to twiddle his thumbs for long. 

The research the teenager was working on was far too sensitive to do in an unsecured location. Still, if his partner was just going to abandon him, Robin could hardly be expected to sit still. Dr. Snow and Cisco Ramon were still fretting over Iris in the medical room, so Robin switched on the computers. It was about time to put his hacking skills up to the test on another hero’s security. 

Flash’s computer security lasted 10 minutes, but Tim knew Dick and Barbara could have done it in half the time or less. After successfully hacking into the computer, Tim looked around the schematics for the various machines Vibe had created for Flash. Cisco was quite the mechanical genius. There was a lot the high school student could learn from the man. 

“Robin,” Batman called as he returned to the room. “It’s time to return to the cave.” 

Sheepishly, the teenager turned off the computers and followed his mentor to the Zeta tube. 

 

Unsurprisingly, Bruce went straight to the medical room when they returned to the Cave. Tim knew his presence wouldn’t be needed. Besides his expertise was better spent elsewhere. Returning to his guest room at Wayne Manor, Tim loaded his file on Dick Grayson. He had created charts listing the symptoms and signs of depression correlated to the ones that could be directly proven like trouble sleeping and the ones that could be considered probable but not certifiably like feeling like a failure. 

As far as the teenager could ascertain, Dick was medically depressed, which meant he was going to need help to recover. (The original dynamic duo were both terrible at taking care of their emotional wounds.)

Tim Drake was not in doubt about Dick’s depression. It was how to move forward. The problem was that every article, book, and expert had said the same advice regarding suicide prevention (if Dick were actively suicidal rather than passively, which Tim needed not to be the case): Do not be afraid to have an open discussion about suicide with the person. Most people fear that discussing suicide with a loved one will put ideas in their head. This isn’t true. Discussions can help, bring healing, and prevent a suicide attempt.

The problem was there was no universe were Tim Drake walked up to Dick Grayson and asked, “Are you planning on killing yourself today?” 

Tim couldn’t do that. He was too afraid of the answers. 

Hence, the file. Once he’s finished with the evidence, research, and strategies for help, the youngest detective was going to leave it on a USB on B’s nightstand. 

Bruce will take care of that, and Tim can focus on the other ways to help. For example, reminding a loved one you care, staying with them during difficult times, encouraging healthy habits – although, the teenager still didn’t know what to do with the advice from one blog that said, “Treat depression and all forms of mental illness with love, not logic.” 

What did that mean? How did one accomplish anything if not through the careful view of logic? Love was a meaningless emotion. Logic solved problems. The detective had nearly closed the window on the blog – except he had a strong sense that this was the answer. If only the genius could figure out what it meant.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? This wasn’t something Tim Drake could do, which is why they needed Wally West. Wally bled concern and love. Tim didn’t. The newest Robin could research, could study, could apply – but just feel, be and love. He had no idea what those words meant in practice. 

The young detective left a link to that particular blog at the bottom of the word document. Perhaps Batman would understand what Robin could not.

Creeping into the master bedroom, Tim left the USB on the billionaire’s nightstand. (Please don’t mess this up.)

 

The youngest Drake was unsurprised to discover that Dick had returned to the police academy Monday morning, nor was he shocked to learn that Bruce had dragged his son back to the manor. However, he was surprised to see Alfred leaving Dick’s room with a trash receptacle full of mirror shards. 

When Tim asked him about it, the butler merely replied, “It appears Master Dick decided to redecorate.” 

After Alfred disappeared down the stairs, Tim crept into his pseudo brother’s bedroom. The room was dark. The curtains were pulled shut, and Dick was a huddled mass on the bed. Robin was not one hundred percent certain, but he was fairly certain that his breaths were too precise, which meant Nightwing was pretending to be asleep. 

Indecisive, the teenager stood in the doorway. All the advice he had read said to be with the depressed person – but Tim wasn’t Dick. He didn’t thrust his presence on unwilling victims until they realized how much they needed a hug. 

The genius debated for too long. 

“Go away, Tim.” 

The dead quality of his brother’s voice decided him. Tim walked into the room, ridding the room of the light cast from the hall as he shut the door. He crawled onto Dick’s bed, but he stayed above the covers. 

Laying down next to the older man, he spoke, “Do you remember when I was dosed with fear toxin last November?” 

Dick ignored him. 

Tim plowed on, “I tried to go home. You scooped me up.” (And that had been humiliating.) “And declared that it was sleepover Saturday. You spent the whole night awake with me, even though you had somewhere to be Sunday morning.”

There was still no response. 

“Then the next week, when I was jumping at shadows in the Bat Cave, you declared that pop culture was a crucial part of Robin training, and you whisked me up to the den to watch movies. You even got Bruce to watch one with us.” 

Silence. 

Determined, he continued. “I didn’t know it then, but I needed that. You stayed with me because you knew I needed it.” (I’m going to do the same for you.)

For twenty minutes, there was no response, no movement from Dick. Alarms blared in Tim’s mind, but the boy didn’t know what to do, so he laid there, staring at the ceiling, hoping he hadn’t made things worse.

Without warning, the blankets shifted, and Tim found himself encased in a mountain of blankets with the familiar weight of a Dick Grayson hug. 

“Thanks, Timmy.” 

His brother shifted to get more comfortable and wrapped an arm around the teenager. 

“I know you haven’t been sleeping.” Tim sighed because, of course, Dick knew. The young detective was certain that Dick could be 3000 parsecs away and still know about his successor’s sleeping habits. “And I’m supposed to be ‘replenishing my accumulated sleep deficit,’ so we can nap together.”

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Tim smiled fondly. (Maybe, he wasn’t a complete failure at being a brother. He could do this.) A yawn escaped his mouth. With the warm solid, proof that his brother was alive, the genius’s ever active mind quieted, and sleep claimed him quickly.

 

Rushing, zipping wind. 

Tim Drake thudded against the floor and scrambled out of the heavy blankets that trapped him. By the time Batman’s newest protégé was prepared to strike the attacker, the original protégé had a redhead pinned by the side of his bed.

Pushing Wally’s head further into the carpet, Dick spoke, “This has literally never worked. Why do you keep trying?”

Wally’s reply was muffled into the carpet. The older teenager sprang off his captive, landing on the balls of his feet. 

The speedster mimicked the acrobat’s motion, grinning. Wally threw an arm around Dick’s shoulders. “Movie time!”

Dick shook his head at his friend. “Yeah, head to the den. I just need to use the bathroom.” 

Tim followed the speedster out of Dick’s bedroom. When he reached the room, Wally already had the TV up with a truly horrendous DVD menu. 

“What is this?” Tim asked disdainfully. 

“Zombie Takeover 4,” Wally enthused. 

The teenager scrunched up his nose. 

The redhead looked affronted. “Dick hasn’t introduced you to Zombie Takeover! These movies are classics.” 

“I highly doubt any credible film critic would agree with your assessment.” 

Wally gaped at him, looking something like a fish. He pointed at Dick, who had just appeared in the doorway. “How could you not introduce your brother to Zombie Takeover?”

Shrugging, Dick head for the couch. “I doubt they’re the type of movies Timmy would appreciate,” he said. 

“Everyone loves these movies,” the redhead cried. 

Tim picked up the blood splattered box. “So, this is two hours of slow creatures eating brains of rational human beings, who somehow can’t survive against beings with no brains?” He asked. 

Wally’s face made that fish expression again; a soft smile tugged at Dick’s lips. 

“We could always marathon Disney instead,” the dark-haired man suggested. 

“No,” the redhead said as he sped in front of Dick, wagging a finger in his face. “I am not listening to you belt ‘Let it Go’ one more time.” 

Tim silently agreed. Why Dick had every Disney song ever memorized was beyond the young teenager, but he never needed to relive the week the man had decided to only answer questions in original Disney songs. Alfred had surprised the new member of the household because he responded to Dick in song from Broadway musicals. By the end of that week, the new Robin’s ears had bled, and Bruce had threatened to have Agent A sew his ward’s lips together. (Even though everyone knew the butler supported his grandchild’s antics.) 

“We could watch actual film classics,” Tim said. 

Wally zipped in front of the teenager, picked him up and plopped him down on the couch next to Dick. The speedster was talking animatedly to his friend, but Tim focused on not barfing. There was a pause in the speech patterns around him. Two hands squeezed his shoulders, and he looked up into two green eyes. 

“You’re looking a little green there. You okay?”

Tim grumbled, “I hate traveling via speedster.” 

Wally blinked and blinked again. Then the hands were gone from the teenager’s shoulders.

“You never told him,” the redhead said, incredulous. 

“It didn’t come up,” Dick replied, defensive. (Tim was immediately concerned this was going to develop into another one of their arguments.)

Wally moved too fast for Tim to see him hit Dick on the head, but he saw the raven locks shift and Dick scowling at his friend. 

“It didn’t come up,” Wally repeated. “It didn’t come up. You have a contingency for every scenario, and you didn’t bother telling your successor that he wouldn’t throw up every time a speedster gave him a ride.” 

“Wait. What?” Tim asked. 

“There wasn’t a speedster on the team at the time.” 

“Oh, and when Bart showed up you still forgot to mention it?” 

Dick shifted into a defensive posture, and Tim knew nothing good was going to come from this conversation. (Sometimes, he hated being right.)

“I had a few other things on my mind at the time,” his older brother replied.

Wally looked furious. “Oh, what? Like lying to everyone and forgetting to eat?” 

“At least, I saved the world and didn’t abandon it, so I could date my girlfriend full time.” The acrobat stood up and fumed in front of his friend.

“Right,” the redhead snorted. “Because you would know anything about commitment!” 

Stillness followed Wally’s last shout. He took a deep breath and scratched the back of his head. “I’m not here to fight with you.” 

Dick’s posture caved in on itself. The two friends needed to have a discussion without Tim’s presence, but the young Drake doubted it was the type of conversation his brother needed right now, so he steered the dialogue closer to his curiosity. 

“What did you mean I wouldn’t get sick?” 

The fire in Wally’s gaze dimed and he turned to face the younger teenager. “People do not get sick when speedsters carry them to safety. I’ve been trying to understand the equation, but there’s something about speed force math that just doesn’t add up,” the science major explained. 

“I threw up twice,” Tim answered. 

“Yes.” The redhead glared back at the acrobat who had an impish smile on his face. One Tim had not seen in a long time. “He drugged your water.” 

“What?” 

“Never bet against Dick. He cheats.” 

“I do not cheat. I just use all possible avenues to ensure my success,” Dick replied in a tone that suggested he was tired of the argument. 

Before Tim had fully thought his actions through, he found himself lunging at his older brother, knocking him and the couch over as the two landed on the ground. They rolled around on the carpeted floor. A rug burn made the adolescent realize he couldn’t remember the last time he had just roughhoused with his brother. 

Tim heard a sound he hadn’t heard since the whole invasion mess began: His brother’s cackle. 

Then, a loud crash. The young detective sprang off of Dick. Lamp shards surrounded them, and Dick flipped over the broken pieces and Tim copied his movements. 

“I daresay, Master Dick, I believe you were benched from all such behavior.”

Alfred’s surrogate grandchild managed to look certifiably sheepish. The butler eyes gleamed in a way that Tim knew meant he was secretly happy. He must have heard the cackle as well. 

“Timothy, I trust you can clean this mess up, while I make sure Dick hasn’t pulled his stitches.”

Dick groaned, “Alfred, I promise I’m fine.” 

One silver eyebrow rose. “Seeing as how your word regarding your health has proven to be false as of late, you’ll forgive me if I’m hesitant to believe you.” 

The acrobat hung his head and slowly followed the butler out of the room. 

A rush of wind and the room was spotless. 

The speedster grinned and said, “Just don’t tell Alfred I did that. He gets upset about guests cleaning his manor.” 

Tim sat back down on the couch and nodded. 

“You’re good for him, you know?” Wally continued, leaning against the arm of the couch. 

The boy’s jerked his head up in disbelief.

“No, you really are. I couldn’t get him to cackle for months after Jason’s death.” 

Tim replied, “I think it has more to do with the fact that you aren’t actually dead.” 

Rubbing the back of his head, Wally spoke slowly, “The thing about Dick. He’s too much like Bruce. He blames himself for everything and isolates.” The man paused, searching for the right words. “But Dick isn’t Bruce, which is a good thing – but, well, Dick needs people.”

“I know.” The teenager nodded. “I’m glad you’re back.” 

The redhead groaned theatrically. “What is it with Bats and insecurities? Like you could probably single-handedly destroy the Watchtower, yet you all think your presence is poison. Look, you’re good for him. Just trust me. I don’t have the energy to reassure you as well.” 

“I don’t think –”

Tim was unable to finish his thought as Dick reappeared in the room. His steps dragged, and the detective found himself wondering what happened to the man in the short time he was gone. 

Ignoring Dick’s posture, the speedster threw himself onto the couch. He said, “Now, we can begin Timmy’s introduction to Zombie Takeover!” 

The teenager scowled at Wally. He had given up on Dick every calling him by his preferred name, but did his friends need to pick up the childish nickname as well. 

The raven-haired man shuffled to the couch, and Tim sat beside him, resigned to several hours of mindless entertainment. 

Halfway through Zombie Takeover 5, Wally answered his incessantly ringing phone. Tim assumed the Flash had called because the entire conversation happened in speed talk. The redhead zipped out of the room and then sped back in. 

“I have to go,” he explained. “Aunt Iris is in labor. Uncle Barry thinks its because of her trip to the speed force.” The speedster’s face looked stricken. “This is all my fault.” 

“No, it’s not.” Dick stood up and approached the man. “Go, Walls. I’ll call Artemis back.” 

Wally nodded and sped out of the room. 

Tim crossed his arms, prepared for a fight. “It’s not your fault either.” 

“What’s that, Tim?” Dick asked, distracted. 

“It’s not your fault,” he repeated. 

The older man didn’t reply, ruffling his younger brother’s hair as he headed towards the Cave. 

 

Dinner in Wayne Manor was an awkward affair that evening. Alfred decreed Dick able to eat small portions of regular foods, and the man stabbed his food and swirled it around his plate, instead of eating it. Tim sat silently as he watched Bruce stare at his son, no doubt wondering how to broach the subject without causing a fight. 

The sound of the forks clattering on the plates, and the overloud chewing of food filled the room. The young Drake wondered if maybe he should have gone home. 

“Alfred has outdone himself. This food is amazing,” Bruce spoke, and Tim bit back a groan. Really Batman was going for subtle encouragement? 

Dick ignored him and continued pushing his food around. Tim noticed Bruce’s hand tightened around the fork. The loud scratch of the older man’s knife cutting roughly against the plate finally forced the younger man to look up. 

“You need to eat,” the billionaire said when he made eye contact with his ward. 

Sighing, the acrobat didn’t argue, which surprised both detectives; Dick obediently started eating but kept his gaze on his food. 

Tim saw the astonished look before Bruce wiped his face into a neutral expression. The older teenager finished his meal and asked to be excused. The billionaire’s eyes shifted to his newest protégé and nodded. Tim wished the glance hadn’t reminded him that he was a constant third wheel in the Wayne household. 

“How was your day, Tim?” Bruce asked after his son had left. 

“Fine. Wally came over. We watched movies.”

The man made a face. “Zombie Takeover marathon?” 

Tim nodded. 

“Did you get a chance to talk to Dick?” 

Refusing to look up from his food, the adolescent shook his head. 

There was a large exhale of breath. 

“Tim, look at me.” 

Reluctantly, he looked up at the man. 

“I was just curious if you had new information. You are not responsible for fixing Dick.” 

_But you need him fixed._

_I need him fixed._

 

Once Bruce and Tim finished their meal, the pair headed down to the cave. Batman needed Robin to analyze surveillance videos to determine a relative location for the crook Nightwing had jokingly named Leather Jacket. Batman made it clear that his original partner was not to know that the new criminal was using one of the Joker’s original code names. The vigilante was concerned that his son would react poorly and do something stupid, which Tim agreed would happen. He wasn’t convinced Batman wouldn’t regret his own actions regarding the Joker wannabe, but that was why Robin existed. Currently, the man was studying the fight the three had had the night before through various surveillance cameras and camera in the cowl. 

Robin finished his work; he was able to narrow the new Red Hood’s potential location to 15 city blocks in the Narrows. Batman accepted the work with a nod. 

“Robin, I don’t want you to engage Red Hood.”

Indignation filled Tim. He barely received a scratch last night. “Bat-“

“No,” the man cut his partner’s protest off. “Red Hood is dangerous. I want you on surveillance. He will not escape again. You will not engage. You will watch him and make sure he doesn’t vanish. Am I clear?” 

“Yes,” the adolescent bit out as he jumped onto his R Cycle. 

Robin rushed to his agreed upon surveillance spot. This was the type of speed Robin enjoyed, where he was in complete control. Enjoying that the ride took minutes instead of seconds, he needed the time to swallow his emotions and prepare himself for surveillance. 

For one hour and 23 minutes, nothing happened. Then there was an explosion three blocks from Robin’s perch. 

Batman’s voice came through the com. “Robin, stay put. I’ll check it out. Keep your focus on locating Red Hood.”

“Understood.”

Robin sighed and continued his surveillance. He did not appreciate the reminder that he wasn’t good enough yet, but he would work harder. He would be the partner Batman needed him to be. Pulling up a map of the city on the holocomputer on his glove, Robin discovered the building was scheduled for demolition next week, which meant that Hood had blown it up to capture the vigilante’s attention. Dread filled his stomach.

“Batman, it’s a trap.” Robin called. 

Burning fire ripped throw Tim’s left shoulder. The young teenager crumpled on to the ground. The world spun above him. Cotton filled his ears. He couldn’t get air in his lungs. Desperate for air, his body increased his breathing. In the back of his mind, he had the notion that he was going in to shock, and he should try to take deep calming breaths, but knowing the correct procedure and being able to accomplish the task as blood poured out of a bullet wound and his vision blurred were two different things. 

Tim’s last conscious thought as the darkness took him was _I need to do better._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Tim was right. It was a trap, but he got the target wrong. I know most of you picked up on the hints last chapter, but yes, he's finally here, and yes, he was always going to show up. It's be a few more chapters before we get to his perspective. He will still be Jason, but he will be slightly different because I see Jason and Dick's relationship as much closer in YJ. Don't worry. Big Bird and Little Wing are going to talk, and neither are going to be impressed with their brother's life choices. 
> 
> I am surprised it took me so long to get back to a Tim chapter. I find him such a fascinating character, especially at this age, and I feel for him and his constant need to be useful because of his terrible parents. All of his research on depression is accurate. 
> 
> I had an anonymous review on ff.net saying that this story helped them understand things in their life. I just want to say that's a large part of the reason I wrote this fic. Depression is hard and it sucks and ppl don't get it. I wanted to write a fic where a beloved character struggled with it and to show how it affects loved ones as well. And well, all of the Bat Boys need extensive therapy. 
> 
> It will take Dick some time to get better because depression doesn't just end quickly. And there's clearly stuff in his relationships he'll need to work out, and no, Dick, you can't just sleep to avoid Bruce.
> 
> I apologize for the two week delay. I had a very busy Thanksgiving, and I preached the Sunday after Thanksgiving, so that took most of my writing time. I hope this chapter makes up for it. :)


	16. Chapter 15: Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Batman just wants his sons, er, his Robins to be safe and healthy, and Wonder Woman understands more than Bruce would like.

Disregarding the heat from the explosion, Batman rushed through the collapsing building. A little boy’s voice kept calling for help, he was almost there. Taking a step back as the ceiling dropped in front of him, he reassessed his options. 

“Help me! Please, someone help me!” The boy cried again. 

“I’m coming,” Batman called. 

He crept towards the outer edges of the room and then towards the area where the screams originated. Entering the room, he paused. There was no child. 

“Help me! Please, someone help me!” 

There was a tiny device that played the recording on loop. This had been a set-up. 

“Batman, it’s a trap,” Robin’s voice came through his comm. 

The Dark Knight prepared to answer as he made his way outside of the burning building, but then he heard a gunshot through the comm. 

“Robin!” 

No answer.

“Robin! Report.” 

Racing down the street, Batman entered the Batmobile and sped towards his partner’s location. 

“Robin!” 

“Not quite, Batman,” A modulated voice answered. “Better hurry, B-Man. I’d hate for you to be late to save another one of your precious pets.” 

White hot anger filled the vigilante. 

“If you’ve hurt him, I’ll kill you.” 

A bark of laughter. “We both know that isn’t true.” 

The communication device clicked off; two gloved hands tightened their grip on the steering wheel. Batman pushed the Batmobile to faster speeds and ran out of the vehicle as soon as he was close to Robin’s perch. He grappled to the roof where he found Tim, bleeding and unconscious but alive. There was no sign of Red Hood, and Bruce hoped he’d stay away long enough for him to extract his partner. 

Ignoring that one of his hands was shaking, Batman stuffed gauze into the bullet wound on Tim’s shoulder. It had already bled too much, and Bruce feared it nicked an artery. _Please, not another one._

Picking Robin up in a bridal carry, the Dark Knight radioed the cave. “Agent A, are you there?” 

“Of course, sir.” 

Batman secured his grapple, used one arm to secure the small boy against his chest, and swung towards the ground, careful to avoid rustling Tim any more than necessary. “Get the doctor.” 

“What happened?”

“Robin’s been shot,” Bruce responded. He secured Tim into the passenger seat. The boy’s pallor was far too gray. It reminded Bruce of another boy. One he was too late to save. He slammed the passenger door shut and ran to the driver’s side. He would not lose another son. 

Speeding towards the cave, Batman clenched the steering wheel tightly. His whole body felt like it was shaking, even though he knew no outward side of trembling could be detected. He had long since trained his body to not show physical signs of distress, but that didn’t mean Bruce didn’t still feel the effects. He kept trying to slam down the door to all the emotions, but every time he glanced at the passenger seat he saw Jason’s bloody and broken body, which morphed into Tim’s corpse. _Please, no._

This was the reason Bruce Wayne didn’t believe in God. If there was a god, he certainly wasn’t a God of love. His mother was a devout Catholic and he had vague memories of dreary masses and bedtime prayers. Her son hadn’t stepped foot in a cathedral since his parents were stolen from him. If that was how God repaid such loving devotion, Bruce wanted nothing to do with him. Robbing a young boy of his parents, stealing the grown man’s son, and threatening to take another. If this was who God was than he wanted no part of it. _If you take my son from me, I’ll spend the rest of my life, all my billions in destroying your churches._

Entering the cave at dangerous speeds, he threw on the breaks and forced the car into park, causing a high-pitched squeal to echo across the cave. Dick threw open the passenger door and placed Tim on a gurney beside him, which he raced towards Alfred and the medical bay. Bruce willed himself to move, but an unholy fear grabbed him. Tim couldn’t die. He couldn’t. Oh dear, God. 

Bile raced up his stomach. He forced himself out of the Batmobile and into the bathroom, where he promptly lost his dinner. He staggered into the locker room and pulled off his costume. He pulled sweatpants over his boxers but kept the white wife beater he wore under his uniform on. Sitting on a bench in the locker room, he waited to hear if he failed another child. If Tim survived this, Bruce wasn’t going to let him back on the streets. The boy was too young, too small. He deserved a life. 

A hand thrust a glass of water into his face. 

“Drink this,” a voice told him. 

Blinking into awareness, he saw his eldest crouched in front of him. Annoyance filled him. It was not Dick’s job to take care of him. Still, Bruce’s brain to mouth filter was working because he was certain his son would take that the wrong way. He took the water from him and sipped it.

“Leslie’s here. She kicked me out of the operation room, but she doesn’t have her worried face, just her serious face. Tim’s gonna be okay,” Dick said as he moved from his crouched position to sit beside his father. 

Bruce nodded. 

“What happened?” 

“I ordered Robin to stay several blocks away from the action. A bomb destroyed a building, and I went to investigate. There was no one in the building. It was a trap set to separate me from Robin,” Batman reported. 

Fists clenched, and body coiled, the billionaire knew Dick was angry. 

“Who was it?” 

Telling his son that a Joker wannabe had nearly killed one of his brothers was a bad idea.

“Leather Jacket,” Bruce responded. 

“I’ll kill him,” Nightwing promised. 

Batman barked, “You’ll do no such thing!” 

Face mutinous, Dick nodded once, and the two fell into silence. 

His son broke the silence. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

Bruce ignored the words because he found them irrelevant and hypocritical. In the last few days, he learned that Dick blamed himself for every single thing that happened. The billionaire was certain if the sky fell tomorrow, his son would find some reason it was his fault. But this wasn’t. Batman fell for a trap that separated him from his partner, who was obviously the target. His analysis of the fight should have shown him that, instead he missed it. Now there was a Joker wannabe that was trying to kill another one of his sons and mocking the death of Jason. He would kill this man. He would.

He wouldn’t. But he would put him in a full body cast. 

“Bruce, it wasn’t your fault,” Dick repeated. 

It most certainly was his fault, but he needed to address the man’s concerns before they blossomed into another month of not eating. 

“And tell me how it’s yours?” 

Dick stiffened beside him. 

“If it isn’t my fault, it certainly isn’t yours,” Bruce told him.

“I should have been there,” Dick replied. 

_Yes, you absolutely should have._

The older vigilante was grateful he hadn’t said that aloud. No matter how much he wished that his son’s depression hadn’t slowly destroyed him, Dick wasn’t in a state to be out in the field. Bruce wouldn’t let his son anywhere near the streets until he knew that the man wanted to return alive. That was a conversation for another time. 

“You need to heal.” 

Scoffing, Dick said, “Alfred pulled the stitches from my arm while you were out. The wound on my torso was superficial. It didn’t need stitches.” 

Bruce knew better than to argue that point with the younger man. 

“And the weight?” He asked instead. 

“I’m fine.” 

Those seemed to be Dick’s new favorite words.

“You’re still 17 pounds underweight,” Bruce shouted. “How much can you lift right now?”

His son stood up. “I don’t need this. I’m not some little kid you can boss around anymore.” 

Anger rushed through the billionaire. He stood up to face his son. “Sit down,” he yelled.

Dick didn’t sit, choosing to glare at his father instead. 

Bruce was two seconds away from forcing the boy to sit whether he wanted to or not when Leslie entered the locker room. She looked at the two of them and decided to ignore the tension in the room. It was hardly the first time the doctor walked in on the pair arguing. 

“Tim’s resting now, but he’s going to be fine,” Dr. Thompkins told them. “It was only his shoulder muscle, so we are looking at a few weeks of recovery time. Tim’s incredibly lucky.” 

Something in Bruce’s stomach loosened, and he remembered that he had promised himself he would not fight with Dick anymore. Clearly, the billionaire was succeeding in that regard. Leslie was scrutinizing his son, who shifted uncomfortably under the doctor’s gaze. Her next words, however, were for Bruce. 

“What do you plan to tell the boy’s parents?” She asked. 

“The truth,” the vigilante replied. 

Dick’s head jerked up in disbelief. Leslie looked away from the younger man to study Bruce. 

“You can’t do this! You can’t just rip Robin away from him,” Dick yelled. 

“This isn’t your decision.” 

“Heaven forbid, you listen to anyone but yourself!” 

“Enough!” Bruce bellowed. “This isn’t up for discussion.” 

“Of course not! The Almighty Batman made a decision and the rest of us just have to live with it.” 

Leslie interjected herself into their argument. “Regardless of personal feelings, Tim’s parents have a right to know what happened. He could have died tonight, Dick.” 

The man turned his glare from his mentor to the doctor, but even the original Robin knew better than to argue with the woman in charge of their medical recovery. 

“Now, I’d like to know what happened to Dick,” she stated as she returned her stare to the young man. 

“We need to set an appointment to get him screened for depression,” Bruce replied over his son’s indignant I’m fine. 

“I don’t have depression,” Dick replied through clenched teeth as he collapsed back onto the bench, glaring at the two of them. 

“How soon can you sche-” 

“No,” his son interrupted. “I’m 19. You can’t just make me go this time.” 

“He may not be able to force you to go, but as a medical professional, if I have reason to believe you are a danger to yourself, I can,” Leslie stated more calmly than the woman probably felt. Dr. Thompkins wasn’t the one who had performed the surgery when Nightwing was found in the Amazon. He had been rushed to the Watch Tower, where Dr. Mid-Nite stabilized him. Yet Leslie had been the one who had seen Dick through his recovery; she had referred the teenager to Dr. Collins. The therapist the boy had seen after Jason’s death, who diagnosed him with situational depression. 

Nightwing gritted his teeth. “I’m not going to kill myself.” 

“Hmmm,” Leslie responded. “Have you been having suicidal thoughts?” 

“No,” Dick lied to the woman’s face, daring her to contradict him. 

Dr. Thompkins turned towards the billionaire. “Bruce, I’d like a moment to speak with Dick alone please.” 

The older man nodded and left to check on Tim. Robin was asleep in the medical bed that his older brother had vacated a day before. His shoulder was wrapped in gauze and an IV dripped medication into his system. The quiet beeping of the heart monitor reassured Bruce. Taking one last look at the alive boy, he headed towards the Batcomputer. He had a criminal to catch. 

Batman wasn’t sure how long he had been at the computer when Nightwing walked out of the locker room with hunched shoulders and collapsed in the chair next to Tim’s medical cot. Dr. Thompkins approached Bruce.

“I’ll come back in a few days to check on Tim. Good luck with his parents,” she said. 

Bruce grunted. “And Dick?”

“He’s not a minor anymore, Bruce. He’s entitled to doctor patient confidentially,” Leslie replied. 

Annoyed, he grunted again. 

“Well as always, it’s been a pleasure speaking with you.” She pursed her lips into a thin line. “Don’t get another Robin. It’s time you kept children out of your war,” she said and walked out of the cave. 

Leslie’s words did not come as a surprise. She had never agreed with his decision to train children, but for the first time, Bruce Wayne agreed with her. He would not be responsible for another child’s death. 

Glancing back towards the med bay, he knew he should send Dick to sleep in his own bed, but the father did not want to start another verbal brawl. Not when he couldn’t trust his son’s motives for fighting. The cost benefit analysis wasn’t worth a potential argument. He turned his gaze back to the massive computer screen. He had work to do.

Batman did not know how many hours passed when Alfred arrived with a steaming cup of coffee.

“Need I bother to hope that you at least napped last night, Sir?” 

In reply the vigilante stretched stiff muscles and heard several of his joints pop and crack in protest. 

“What time is it?” 

“A quarter to seven,” the butler replied as he went to check on his two patients. 

Bruce rubbed the stubble on his jaw with his right hand. “I’m going to get ready for work.” 

Alfred offered a vague affirmative noise in his direction, which meant that the billionaire had stumbled in some interaction. He bit back a yawn and carried his coffee up the stairs. He could figure out what he had done to annoy his father figure later. 

 

After a long day of work at Wayne Enterprise on no sleep, all Bruce Wayne wanted to do was nap. Unfortunately, he had the unpleasant task of firing his current partner before that could be done, or more precisely manipulating the situation to ensure that Tim remained safe. The billionaire dragged himself out of his car and headed into his home, unsurprised that no one greeted him at the door. 

Changed into more appropriate attire, the man headed down into the Cave. Dick and Tim were chatting quietly while some cartoon program played on the TV that had been installed after the first time Dick had been hurt on patrol. Alfred was redressing the boy’s wound. It didn’t appear swollen or puffy. That was a good sign. Tim seemed quiet, but that didn’t necessarily raise warning flags in Bruce’s mind; the boy was naturally reticent. Dick had an overused easy smile on his face, but when his son looked at him, the billionaire saw the ice in his gaze. The young man was furious with him. Timothy followed his brother’s gaze and gave a weak smile. 

“How are you feeling, Tim?” 

Tim attempted to shrug before he was reminded why that was a painful idea. 

“Fine,” the youth responded. 

_What was with his children and that word?_

Bruce gave a noncommittal noise to his partner’s response and then asked to speak to Tim alone. Predictably, Dick wasn’t in favor of the idea. 

“Anything you have to say to Tim, you can say in front of me, Batman,” the man growled and stood between Bruce and Tim as a type of shield. 

His hands curled into fists. He would not strike the child he loved, but Dick had been driving the billionaire closer and closer to his breaking point. 

“Master Dick, I require your assistance upstairs,” Alfred intervened. 

Bruce nodded his head in thanks to the elderly man. 

Dick looked at Tim, who nodded. 

“Just remember, Timmy, Robin is mine. I get final say,” he said as he playfully ruffled the boy’s hair before following Alfred out of the cave. 

Feeling the weight of his decision, Bruce sat down in the chair previously occupied by Dick and wondered how to broach the topic. 

Tim spoke first, “It’s okay, Bruce. I know why you are here.” 

“You do?” 

“Dick’s been hovering all day and his last comment pretty much confirmed my theory. I get it. You’re terrified of losing another Robin, and I wasn’t good enough.” Tim  
attempted to shrug again but winced. 

The anger that flooded Bruce’s system was familiar, quick, and demanded release. 

“It is not your job to protect me,” he growled. 

The teenager paled slightly at his Batman voice, and there was a small part of the vigilante that enjoyed having a Robin that still respected the gravely tone. 

“I’m not here to fire you, but I will not allow you back on the streets without your parents’ permission.” 

Tim’s face shifted from confused to disbelief quickly. 

“My parents will never agree to me being Robin.” 

“You could have died tonight, and your parents would have had no idea. Tim, you were shot. That’s not something you can hide.” 

Tim looked at Bruce in disbelief. “My parents won’t notice.”

“You were shot,” the billionaire reminded the boy. 

“They won’t be home from their summer dig until mid-October. I should be mostly healed by then.” 

The billionaire had forgotten to check on the Drakes. With everything that had happened since his return, Bruce had forgotten to ensure his partner’s home life was stable. Cursing himself and trying to keep his ever-present anger in check, he replied, “How long have they been gone?” 

Tim stared at the blanket and refused to answer. 

“How. Long. Timothy?” The billionaire’s patience was quickly dissolving. 

“They left in April. They’ll be back in October for two weeks before a business trip takes them to Japan.” 

Bruce very much wanted to throw something at the wall. The vigilante settled for digging his hands into the arms of the chair.

“You’ve been alone in your house since April?” 

Tim noticed something in his voice because his face snapped up. Voice defiant, he spoke, “I’m fourteen, and I’m Robin. I can handle being alone.” 

The emotions of teenagers were exhausting. 

“You’re fourteen,” the man echoed. “I should call CPP.” 

His partner shook his head. “My parents aren’t abusing me, Bruce. They’re just busy.” Tim looked him straight in the eye. “Besides how would you explain the bullet wound?”

Tim had him there. If he were going to bring the Drakes up for charges of neglect, it would have to be after his injury healed. Until then – “You’re staying in the manor until they return.” 

The boy looked indignant. “I can take care of myself.” 

“You are recovering from an injury and will have limited range of motion with your dominant arm. You will stay here.” Bruce leaned forward in the chair. “Is that clear, Robin? 

A smug smile crept onto Tim’s face. “Does that mean you’re not firing me?” 

The middle-aged man rubbed his temples. His life was so much simpler before children. 

 

Hours after the sun had set, Bruce Wayne changed into his costume, eager to break a few bones and place Red Hood behind bars. His work on the computer had led Batman to suspect the criminal hadn’t left Crime Alley. It appeared that the Joker wannabe was trying to become a drug lord. Eight lieutenants of well-known drug bosses had been brutally murdered since Red Hood appeared on the scene. 

Heading to a trusted perch above Crime Alley, Batman began his patrol, searching for any sign of the man who dared to hurt his Robin. He prepared himself for a night of watching and hunting, but all that changed the moment he heard the sound of a grapple hook and felt the shift in the air. He dropped instinctively and brought up an arm to block. 

“So nice of you to join me, B-Man,” Red Hood said, throwing another punch at Batman. 

Batman blocked the punches and grabbed the man and threw him into a wall of the stairwell exit. 

“Don’t call me that,” he growled. The vigilante threw a bolo at the man, who jumped up and sliced the offending rope with a knife. 

“Nice to know you’re using the same tricks.” 

Batman threw several batarangs at the criminal, who dodged them by leaping over them and landing a flying kick. The vigilante rolled with the weight of the kick and came back with a punch to the chest and an elbow to the face, which Red Hood blocked. The criminal failed to block the knee that attacked his stomach. Red Hood rolled with the force of the blow and stood up feet away from a slowly approaching Dark Knight. He picked up a discarded batarang from earlier. 

“As much as I’d love to stay and chat, I’ve got places to be, people to kill,” the man said with a shrug. 

Batman rushed at the man, who attempted a roundhouse kick, which failed to connect, but belatedly Bruce realized the goal wasn’t to land a hit. It was to gather space. The man shot a grapple to another building and sliced his arm with the batarang, throwing the bloody weapon at The Dark Knight’s feet. 

“You know, you used to not be this slow on the uptake. Figure it out, Bruce.” 

The complete shock of being addressed by his given name while out patrolling the streets led to the Red Hood escaping without Batman knowing which direction he headed. 

Cursing himself for his weakness, Batman picked up the bloody batarang. He debated about pursuing Red Hood or taking this evidence back to the Cave to analyze. His barely contained fury needed to see Red Hood behind bars, but the detective in him couldn’t ignore a possible potential clue. Why would the criminal had him DNA evidence? Why was he constantly provoking Batman with memories of Jason? He needed more information. 

Decided, he dropped back to the ground and drove the Batmobile back to the Cave. He’d get answers, and then he would handle Red Hood. 

 

The shattering of a tray behind him. 

The soft intake of breath from the med bay. 

The crash of the chair as its occupant stood too quickly. 

The DNA analysis on the screen: Jason Peter Todd. 

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. 

Batman needed answers, and he needed them now. 

Bruce took one look at his startled butler and his shocked partner, grateful that the original Robin was currently still avoiding him. 

“No one tells Dick.”

 

Batman had wanted to leave to confront Ra’s immediately, but Alfred had rather pointedly commented that should any trouble arise while he was absent Nightwing would take to the streets, which meant Bruce needed to call in a favor. He pulled up a list of currently available Leaguers. Green Lantern: Definitely Not. Superman: He didn’t need another heart to heart. Wonder Woman: Hmm, he had never asked Diana to watch his city before, but he was certain she could handle it. She also was less likely to probe about Bruce’s personal life than a certain Boy Scout. Batman placed the call. 

“Batman, what do I owe the pleasure?” Diana greeted.

“I need a favor. I need to leave to gather information. I should be gone for no more than 30 hours. I need someone to watch Gotham while I’m gone,” Batman directed.

There was a pause on the other line. “Is Nightwing not available?” 

“No.” 

“What happened?” 

Batman remained silent, trying to determine how to not answer, but Diana’s compassion would have her storming down the manor if she was refused an answer. This was a bad idea. 

“He responded poorly to the news of Kids Flash’s death.” He heard the hitch of breath on the other line. Everyone knew how poorly Dick had responded to Jason’s death, which forced Batman to ask: How had they all missed it again? “He’s resting.”

“Is he okay?” Wonder Woman asked.

“He will be,” Bruce responded, firm. 

There was another beat of silence on the other line. “Antiope trained me. She was a fierce warrior, but she was also predictable.” 

“Is there a point?” Batman barked. 

“I followed my mentor’s steps. I, too, became predictable. It led to my injuries on Daxam.” 

Batman’s patience had run out. “The point, Wonder Woman.”

“We become our mentors, both their strengths and their flaws. If you want Nightwing to heal, perhaps you should set the example, Batman,” Diana finished. 

Bruce did not have time for this. “Noted. Will you watch the city?” 

Diana sighed. “Yes, Batman. I will guard your city.”

 

As the sun rose over Gotham, Batman placed another call to Wonder Woman to dismiss his fellow hero. The previous night had been quiet, which was good. Bruce would not be able to handle another problem. His fists tightened on the wheel. 

Jason was alive. 

Jason was alive and murdering criminals in Gotham. 

Ra’s had resurrected his son and didn’t tell him. 

Ra’s had infected his son with Pit Madness and set him loose. 

Jason needed his father, and the Demon had denied him that. He would destroy the entirety of his empire. But first he needed to save Jason. Whatever it took, he would save his son. 

 

Throughout the rest of the five-hour journey home, Batman planned. He had stolen a vile of the liquid of the Lazarus Pit. He needed to study it to find a solution to the Pit Madness, which was secondary to convincing Jason to come home. Whatever it took, the father would bring his son home. 

Batman landed the Batwing and descended into the Cave and immediately felt his son’s fist on his face. The dull ache on the side of his face proved Nightwing hadn’t pulled the punch. 

“How dare you?” His son screamed, spit splattering the cowl. “How. Dare. You?” Nightwing’s fists clenched, and Bruce new that Dick was doing everything to prevent himself from attacking the older man. 

Strolling past Nightwing, Batman commented, “I didn’t want to cause you further distress.” 

The curse that came out of his son’s mouth demonstrated how well he appreciated the sentiment. 

The cave alarm started blaring, which prevented the colossal fight that was brewing between the pair. The Joker had escaped from Arkham. Jason was alive, and the Joker had escaped. 

Nightwing joined Batman as he stormed towards the Batmobile. 

“Absolutely not,” Batman growled. “You’re staying here.” 

“Jason is alive, and the Joker is loose. You need me,” Nightwing stated. 

Batman’s anger rose. “You are in no condition to be in the field.” 

“I’m fine.”

Batman erupted, turning to fully face his son, “You are not fine. I will not lose another son.”

The fury of the Dark Knight made Dick stumble. 

“If you want to help, you and Tim can study surveillance videos and try to find the Joker.” 

Nightwing gritted his teeth but nodded. 

Batman sped off in the Batmobile. 

_Just this once, Dick, please stay in the cave._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...anyone think Nightwing is going to stay in the cave? 
> 
> Well, I have good news for many of you. It was going to be a few chapters before Jason, but I realized for pacing and story purposes. His chapter is next. :) 
> 
> Updates will probably continue to be once every two weeks until after Christmas. 
> 
> The scene between Bruce and Diana was incredibly important to me, so I hoped y'all enjoyed it. I wish Bruce hung out with her more than Clark. Diana is less of an enabler. Also, come on Bruce, I wonder why all your children pretend to be fine when they are hurting. Where could they have learned that behavior? 
> 
> If anyone is curious, I did a ton of research for that one paragraph were Bruce discusses his religious beliefs, or lack there of. It's generally agreed that Thomas Wayne was Episcopalian and Martha Wayne was Catholic, and Bruce is a lapsed believer. Although, there is a ton of disagreement if his childhood was Protestant or Catholic, but I tend to agree with the one Batman writer who commented that Bruce suffers from so much guilt that he probably had a Catholic background. Not to mention that statistically speaking, families tend to follow the mother's religious beliefs. I'm not Catholic, and I know I've mentioned the religion more than once, so I hope I've portrayed it fairly and with grace. I have no beef with my Catholic brothers and sisters. Many of my best friends are Catholics, but if you are disappointed with the portrayal please let me know.


	17. Chapter 16: Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jason Todd remembers, Bruce Wayne should sleep more, and Dick Grayson's ability to talk a leopard out of his spots is put to the test. Oh, and Nightwing kills the Joker...maybe? 
> 
> -Not necessarily in that order.

Jason Todd would not mess this up. He had months to plan, and everything was perfect. Black Mask had been apprehended; Red Hood had captured the Joker and left him tied up on the roof of a building in the business sector of downtown. Tonight, the clown would die, and if Bruce had ever given a damn about him, it would be by the Big Bat’s hand. He would be avenged. The Joker would not survive the night, but whether Jason returned to the manor would depend on Bruce.

The man waited on the ground, a few blocks over from where he carefully hid the Joker, for his previous mentor to show; it shouldn’t take the World’s Greatest Detective long to locate him. 

Speak of the devil. 

The Big Bad Bat dropped from the sky and landed silently several feet away from Jason. Bruce was giving him personal space. How touching. 

“Jason.” That was not a tone Red Hood could identify. This could be interesting. 

“So you finally figured it out,” Jason replied. “It took you long enough.” 

Bruce made no effort to advance, and behind his hood the second Robin rolled his eyes. Daddy Dearest was going to try to talk to him. 

“I know what happened,” Bruce started, but fury rose in Jason and he cut him off.

“You don’t know anything.” His voice roared through the helmet’s moderator. 

Batman’s hands rose ever so slightly in a calming gesture, and his voice dropped to the low tones he used to calm scared children. 

“I can help you.” 

A green haze filled Jason’s vision and he threw minor explosives in Batman’s direction and grappled up to the roof. Bruce was a colossal moron if he thought they could talk this out. 

His old mentor landed on the roof seconds after Jason. Batman attempted a flying kick to take the wayward Robin down, but Jason rolled out of the way and sprang to his feet with a smile on his face. Sparring with Bruce had always been fun. He wiped the smile and the memory from his brain. He wasn’t here to play house. Jason Todd was here for justice. 

The Dark Knight came at him like a warrior from one of those kung fu movies Dick and he watched together – popcorn covering the couch, spilt soda on Alfred’s rug, trying to hide the incriminating evidence, laughing so hard the brown liquid squirted out his nose. He clenched his teeth in annoyance. Bruce and Dick had failed him. Jason had died, and the Joker was still alive. They never loved him. It had all been a terrible fraud. 

The ferocity of Batman’s attack forced him to refocus his attention to the fight at hand. Jason knew this tactic; Bruce was attempting to take him out quickly, likely so he could hogtie him and take him back to the Cave and be subjected to tests. 

To hell with that! 

Jason wasn’t Pit Mad. 

He was seeing things clearly for the first time. 

Jason grappled to another roof. They were still several rooftops away from where he stashed the Joker, and he needed both of them to arrive there in one piece and soon. 

Giving chase, Batman followed him to their destination, but tackled him three roofs away from the prize. Batman wrestled Red Hood, and the two rolled on the hard pavement of the building. 

“Jason, listen to me,” Bruce tried again. 

Red Hood bucked Batman off and swiped his legs out from under him when Jason realized the man was fiddling with his utility belt, and he knew Bruce was trying to sedate him. That bastard. 

Quenching the urge to shoot the jackass, Jason threw a smoke pellet on the ground, which wouldn’t slow Batman down but did allow the former Robin to guide the fight, so that the pair were only one rooftop away from Jason’s final plan. 

The more they fought, the more Jason realized Bruce’s punches may have had a certain ferocity, but they were sluggish. A fraction of a hair slower than normal. Had he lost sleep worrying about his precious Baby Bird? Kid didn’t realize yet that he meant nothing to Batman. Jason had done him a favor. 

Red Hood flipped off the final roof without a grapple line, heading towards a lower rooftop in a move that was reminiscent of Nightwing. Bruce fired a grapple and crashed into him. What the hell? That was stupidly dangerous. The two men crashed with a thud onto the rooftop, knocking over the makeshift empty bird cage that Jason had used to hide the Joker. 

“You always did like to make an entrance, Batsy,” the clown crowed from the sideways chair he was tied tightly to.

Jason stood up and immediately trained his gun on the Joker. Batman stood up and stumbled, forcing his weight onto one leg. Judging by the angle of his foot, Bruce had definitely broken his ankle.

“Oh did the poor little Batsy Watsy hurt himself during the fall, trying to protect his broken birdie,” Joker chortled.

Jason smashed the chair and grabbed the still tied up Joker and held him up, digging the barrel of his gun into the clown’s head. 

“You’re not going to make another sound,” Jason told him. 

“Party pooper.” 

Ignoring him, Hood tossed an extra gun at Batman’s feet. 

“You want to know what this has all been about?” Jason asked. “Why the hell is he still alive?” 

Batman bent down and picked up the gun. He stared at it for a few minutes before looking up at Jason and his captive. 

“What do you want Hood?” 

“Justice!” Jason screamed. “He killed me. He took me away from you, and you couldn’t kill him. Well, that ends today.” 

“It’s not justice for me to be judge, jury, and executioner,” Batman replied with a quiet, still voice.

“After everything he’s done, he deserves death!” Red Hood threw the Joker into the lip of the roof, hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to toss him over. There would be no accidental deaths tonight. Someone would put a bullet through the maniac’s skull. 

Batman’s gloves tightened on the barrel of the gun he was holding. “I can’t be the one to do that.”

His gun still pointed at the Joker, the former Robin looked at his mentor, _his father_ and pleaded, “It’s you or me, but he dies tonight.” 

He saw the vigilante drop a batarang into his hand, and Jason fired a shot at the offending equipment. Bruce dropped the weapon and stepped back in surprise. Only the step and the gun shot forced the man to place weight on his broken ankle. The man toppled when the joint refused to support his weight. 

“I’ve got a better idea,” a familiar voice called. “Neither one of you are going to kill him tonight.” 

Jason whipped around to see well-known blue and black bird scoop up the Joker and fly to the next highest building. Cursing, Hood shot a warning shot at the pair and followed. 

Nightwing hadn’t been seen in Gotham in months. He had been in Bludhaven until the city’s protector seemed to drop off the face of the earth. Jason had assumed this meant Dick was on a mission with his beloved team or injured. He hadn’t factored him into the equation tonight and he would pay dearly for it. He had to get this situation back under his control.

To his surprise, Nightwing didn’t flee with the Joker back to Arkham. Instead, his dearest brother settled on the edge of a roof less than a block over and waited. 

Red Hood landed with a thud, guns trained on the pair. Nightwing balanced on the lip of the rooftop; he held the Joker up with a batarang pressed against the clown’s pasty neck. The villain was grinning. Jason startled. This was not what he expected. 

“I’ll make you a deal, Little Wing,” Dick said. Jason dug his left hand into a fist. He hated that stupid nickname. “I’ll kill the Joker, and you’ll go home with Batman.” 

Jason froze. What. Even if the younger man had planned for a confrontation with his brother, he never would have prepared for this eventuality. He studied the man in front of him. The normally skintight Nightwing costume was baggy and – what the hell? Dick wasn’t wearing Kevlar. Did he have a death wish? Stupid, reckless idiot. Jason should shoot him just to prove how stupid the golden child was. 

The cackling Joker interrupted the resurrected man’s thoughts. 

“All this time, I’ve been focusing on the wrong Bat.” The deranged man laughed violently. Dick shifted back on his heels, still perfectly, freakishly balanced. “Oh! What would Daddy Bats say knowing his little birdies are so quick to kill?” 

Nightwing moved so quickly that not even Red Hood’s helmet could track it, but the Joker slumped a dead weight against Dick’s chest, who still had a batarang against the villain’s throat. 

“What the hell?” Jason didn’t realize he had spoken until the sound reached his ears, but seriously. What the hell? 

“You heard me, Hood,” Nightwing replied, hands gripping the batarang tightly that Jason knew if the man wasn’t wearing gloves, it would have torn into his flesh. “You go home with Batman, and I’ll kill the Joker.” 

“No. It has to be Bruce.” And once Batman killed the Joker, Red Hood was going to destroy whoever injured Dick. 

The older bird shook his head. “He won’t do it. Not for you. Not for me. Not even for Agent A.” 

“Then he doesn’t love us!” The words were torn from his lips. A deep green haze filled his brain. 

Dick shook his head again. “He loves you. Your death nearly destroyed him.”

“F- You!” Jason fired his gun at the pair. Nightwing pulled the Joker out of the range of his shot, still perched on the edge on the building. 

“There’s enough blood on your hands, Little Wing.” Nightwing’s arm trembled. The batarang sliced the white skin of the clown’s neck. Bright red liquid trickled out. “I got this one, but only if you promise to let Bruce help.” 

“This is who I am,” Jason told him. “You and B want to pretend this is madness, but you’re wrong. This is who I’ve always been.” 

“No.” Nightwing’s voice held the iron tone Dick only ever used for the worst of criminals. “This is not who you are.” 

“Then you never knew me!” 

There was silence that echoed after his declaration until Dick’s quiet, steady voice filled the roof.

“I know that before you ever put on the mask, I found you protecting other kids on the street from a couple of thugs from the Ghost Dragons.”

Despite the green haze in his brain, he remembered that. He had nearly gotten his ass kicked when a black and blue guardian angel dropped down and destroyed the punks. There was a mixture of gratitude and anger at the memory. 

Nightwing was still talking, “I know that when you came to live with us, and you got in trouble for starting a fight in school.” Dick’s tone had grown fond. “You told Bruce that he couldn’t teach you how to beat up creeps and expect you to only use the skills behind a mask.” 

Jason had been standing up for another kid, and Bruce had still grounded him for two weeks. The punishment was stupid, considering he was praised for beating up punks nightly. 

“I know that when Batman tried to bench you from a case involving a child prostitution ring, you snuck out in civilian clothes to protect the kids you knew on the street.” 

It’s not like he could have let Sarah, Joe, and the others fend for themselves. 

“You’re a protector, Little Wing. Always have been.” 

This was too damn much. 

“And now, I’m protecting people by ending the lives of those who would hurt the innocent,” Red Hood snarled. 

“Who’s protecting you?” Nightwing asked quietly. 

“I don’t need protection,” Jason scoffed.

The older vigilante shook his head again. “Killing eats you, Little Wing. I’ll protect you from this one, but promise me that you’ll let Batman help you.” 

“What the hell would you know about it?”

Dick laughed, but it sounded nothing like the joyful laugh that the younger man remembered. “This wouldn’t be my first kill, Jay.” 

What. The. Hell. 

“Oh yeah, who have you killed Dickhead?” 

Nightwing shifted on the edge of the roof, holding Joker closer to him. “You, Jaybird. I killed you.” 

Green flooded his vision. The anger that filled Jason was quick, and he was surprised that he managed not to put a bullet directly into Dickhead’s skull. 

“That bastard killed me!”

The idiot was still shaking his head. 

“Didn’t you ever wonder why Bruce was late, Little Wing?” 

Yes. In the final moments of his life he had wondered where his dad was. In the end, he was left with the familiar weight of disappointment. 

“We were fighting. God, I don’t even remember what we were fighting about. All I know is some stupid argument is the reason you died.” 

Jason didn’t realize he had fired his pistol until he heard the gunshot. Nightwing pivoted the Joker out of the way, but a hiss of pain told Hood he had hit the other vigilante. 

“I know you’re angry, Jay. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, you stupid idiot. I just shot you.”

“Barely a graze, Jaybird.” Dick stood up straighter dragging the Joker with him. “Do we have a deal?” 

There was a soft clank against the lip of the other roof. Batman would be here within seconds. Jason wanted the clown dead, and he was about to lose his window. The Dark Knight landed on one foot at the edge of the roof, limping slowly towards them. Now or never. He nodded. 

Nightwing nodded, but the weight in his arms shifted. 

“This has certainly been an enlightening conversation,” Joker said with a grin. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to make a slight change to the plans.” 

Joker thrust his weight at the black and blue vigilante. Unprepared for the shift, Nightwing slipped – but Dick Grayson was a world-class acrobat. He would recover. 

The toe of a black boot gripped the lip of the edge. The Joker grinned. The crazy clown threw himself at Nightwing one more time. This time the man couldn’t recover. Joker and Nightwing tumbled over the edge of the building. 

The word tore itself from his throat.

“Dick!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! 
> 
> Any lines you recognize were taken from _Batman: Under the Red Hood._
> 
> I hope you enjoyed my portrayal of Jason. I've never written him before, so I would appreciate feedback. 
> 
> Let's see Jason jumped off a building without a grapple in a move he stole from Dick...I wonder what Bruce had been thinking at that moment.
> 
> Any guesses on what Dick was thinking throughout this? 
> 
> Keep an eye out for a fic called: "The Three Times Nightwing adopted Jason Todd and the time Batman Did" 
> 
> I had an anonymous review on ff.net discussing how they did not want to login because they had been harassed before for not believing. I just want to say that I appreciate that all the reviews I've received here have been encouraging, and I appreciate that. I am a person of faith, but I believe we must be able to discuss difficult issues such as faith with respect, grace, and dignity. It is never okay to harass someone for beliefs that are different than our own. 
> 
> No matter what you believe, you are valuable and important. I believe that you were made in the image of God, and that means that you matter. No matter what.
> 
> Much Love,  
> ~Lightsider


	18. Chapter 17: Barbara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Barbara is a boss.

Zetaing out of the Batcave, Barbara Gordon asked to speak to Kaldur’ahm alone. The young Atlantean nodded in assent, and the two headed to an unoccupied meditation room to discuss. 

“What is it, Batgirl?” He asked. 

Barbara made a point of looking the team leader in the eye. “Kaldur, you need a break.” 

Unlike the Bats, the Atlantean didn’t protest. “I do, but with Nightwing out of commission… I’ll wait until he returns.” 

The redhead shook her head. “No, we’ve no idea how long he’ll be on medical leave. You won’t do the team any favors if you follow his example.” 

Kaldur sighed. “I know. I owe it to my king and my people to return to Atlantis and repair broken relationships, but the team needs leadership.” He looked to the wall past his companion. “I owe a debt to this team as well.” 

Batgirl laid a hand on the man’s arm. “The team trusts you, Kaldur. You have nothing left to prove. Go home. Rest.” 

“Who will lead Young Justice?” 

Placing both hands on her hips, Barbara looked at her team leader. 

Shaking his head with a mirthless laugh, he replied, “Forgive me, Batgirl. I forget that you’ve been ready and willing to lead.” 

She nodded in response. Barbara Gordon did not want to accuse the young Atlantean of overlooking her because she was female, but the redhead couldn’t help but wonder – if she was male would he have forgotten her? _Don’t do this to yourself, Babs._

Kaldur was under a lot of stress. It wasn’t intentional. 

“I’ll inform Batman and the team of the decision,” the Atlantean said. He began to exit the room but turned back and looked at his fellow hero. “Nightwing will be okay.” 

“Yes, he will,” Batgirl replied. She would make sure of it. Failure wasn’t an option. 

_One man down. One to go._ Too bad the next male was far more stubborn and way less cooperative. 

She found Roy Harper in an armory designed for Green Arrow and his flock. The man was examining an arrow when she walked into the room. Batgirl didn’t have the same mutual trust she shared with Aqualad with Red Arrow. Best to appear nonthreatening. She leaned against the wall with her arms crossed in a deceptively casual position. Her fellow redhead ignored her as he continued inspecting arrows. 

Doubting Roy would appreciate subtlety, she said, “We don’t need you on this.” 

Red Arrow continued to pack the arrows he had selected. 

Barbara rolled her eyes. _Men, so predictable._

“Look, I’m not insulting your capabilities, but I am aware that Cheshire and Tigress just returned.”

There was a brief pause in Roy’s movements.

“Go home and be with your wife, Roy,” she said, knowing she was risking the crimson-haired man’s wrath. 

Roy’s grip on the supplies tightened. _In for a penny…_

“Roy, you can give me the information,”

An arrow in her face cut her off. 

“Stop,” he ordered. “You don’t know me. You do not get to waltz in here and give me orders.” 

Batgirl pushed the arrow out of her face. “I’m not trying to give you orders.” She let out an exhale of breath. “You’ve been with an infant for over a week, and if that wasn’t enough I know you’ve been worrying about Dick. You saw what was going on before everyone else.” Barbara was still kicking herself for taking too long to realize just how badly her friend was functioning. “Go home and be with Jade and Lian. Young Justice can handle this.” 

Red Arrow stared her down. Without his mask, the female superhero could see his indecision. Barbara played her trump card. 

“Do you really want to be stuck on a mission when Dick and Wally inevitably blow something up trying to make Dick feel better?” 

She saw the moment the man folded in his eyes. He leaned into her personal space. “Don’t mess this up.”

Nodding, Batgirl replied, “I want him to be okay just as much as you do.” 

Roy mumbled something she didn’t hear, but she left the armory. _One archer down. One to go._

Artemis was already at the bioship with M’gann and Connor. The blonde took one look at Batgirl. 

“No,” she said. 

Batgirl blinked. “What?”

Artemis rolled her eyes. “I know what you’re going to say. The answer is no.” 

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” 

M’gann looked uncomfortably between the two female humans. “Connor, perhaps you and I should wait on the ship.” 

The Martian dragged her boyfriend up the ramp of the bioship, which closed without a sound. 

The blonde folded her arms over her chest. “Would you like to begin your carefully constructed argument about why I shouldn’t go on this mission or can we skip it and get to work?” 

For a moment, Barbara was at a loss for words. “How did you?” 

“I know you, Barbie,” Artemis replied. 

“Then you also know that my arguments are well-reasoned and logic-based,” the redhead said, ignoring the flash of pain at Jason’s nickname for her. “You’ve just returned from an assignment. You haven’t had your mandatory 48-hour rest period between missions.” 

“I wasn’t on assignment. I was vacationing with my sister.” The archer smiled. “Next?” 

Barbara huffed. “Technicality. You still need rest.”

“I know how much caffeine you drink. Try again.” 

This conversation was rapidly falling out of the redhead’s grasp. She’d have to tip her hand.

“You can’t tell me you wouldn’t rather be with Wally,” Barbara tried. 

Artemis looked down. When she spoke, it was in a soft voice. “I would, but I can’t.” 

The redhead didn’t say anything, waiting for her friend to continue. 

“I told you that I didn’t know who I was without Wally.” She sighed, raising her head to look at her friend. “That’s still true. I can’t throw away the hero gig to ride off with him in the sunset.” 

The feminist had no counter argument for that. 

“Okay,” she replied. “But be safe.” 

Artemis grinned. “You’ll be watching my back. I’ll be fine.” The blonde saw something in Batgirl’s stance. “You’re not coming.” 

“You, Miss Martian, and Superboy are more than capable of handling this mission alone. Any more would be overkill.” 

Green Arrow’s former protégé looked around. Noticing for the first time that Red Arrow and Aqualad were missing. 

“Let me guess. You convinced Roy and Kaldur they needed a break,” she stated.

Folding her arms across her chest, the redhead replied, “I pointed out the obvious.” 

A feline smile spread across the archer’s features. “Are you telling me I’m the only one who won against Barbara Gordon in an argument?”

Batgirl huffed. 

Winking, Artemis said, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell. – Wait. I thought we needed a hacker.” 

“You do, but I can do that remotely from here. I’m taking over as Team Leader in the interim.” 

Her friend placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Good, you deserve it. Give ‘em hell.” 

“I intend to.” 

 

Being leader of Young Justice meant paperwork. A lot of paperwork. She wondered how Dick, who hated sitting still, managed to lead the team for an entire year. Nightwing had been an impeccable leader, and Barbara could not remember Batman’ original protégé ever complaining about scheduling, which was turning out to be a nightmare. Finishing the summer months had been relatively easy, but attempting to set a fall schedule was turning into a herculean task. There were a ton of conflicts to consider, ranging from city patrolling and training with their mentors to after school cheerleading practice. She brought her hands up to massage her temples. 

How had Dick managed to do this without developing a headache? 

_Treat it like a game, Babs._ The former Boy Wonder’s words came to her mind. _It’s a puzzle._ He had been describing how to hack into a heavily encrypted database, but the same principles would apply to the mess before her. _Anything can be fun with a little effort._

Her heart felt a sharp pain. _Oh, Dick._ What happened to that smiling, laughing teenager? 

_One problem at a time, Barbara._

Interlacing her fingers, the genius stretched out her hands. Barbara Gordon was good at puzzles. 

Forty minutes into designing a fall schedule, Cassie Sandsmark crept into the room. 

“Um, hi, Batgirl?” The girl asked. 

Trying to mask her annoyance at being interrupted, Barbara replied, “Yes, Wonder Girl.”

The girl hovered in the doorway. “I wanted to ask you a question.” 

“Yes?” She turned her chair to face her fellow superhero.

“It’s just Nightwing offered to train me in stealth, but he’s on leave. I was going to ask Robin, but well, he’s been spending most of his time in Gotham.” She dropped to the floor. “I was hoping you could help me.” 

Weren’t Tim and Cassie dating? Barbara needed to talk to her fellow Bat about how to treat a woman. Lord knows, Bruce and Dick were terrible role models in the romance department. 

“Sure.” She saved her work on the computer. “Meet me in the training room in ten minutes.” 

Cassie’s smile lit up her entire face. “Thanks, Batgirl!” 

“No problem,” the redhead replied. “Oh, and Cassie, try not to announce your arrival when you enter the room.” 

 

Fifteen minutes into training Cassandra, Mal arrived asking Batgirl to help him with their hand to hand. Then Karen wanted help with hacking. By the time, Barbara returned to her computer to finish the schedule, she was supposed to be back in Gotham for patrol. She drained the remaining drops of her coffee and prepared to Zeta back to her city. A yellow post-it note caught her attention. The handwriting was the small and neat handwriting of Bruce Wayne. 

_Congratulations. Focus on maintaining a smooth transition. I will handle the city._

As she had been taught, Batgirl shredded the note. On one hand, she was grateful for the time to complete the new task before her. On the other hand, Bruce needed her help with Dick, whether he realized it or not. Bruce had many talents; people was not one of them. Then again, Tim was there, and Dick loved his little brother. He had none of the reservations about opening his heart to a new Robin that plagued his mentor. Wally was there too. The speedster knew the original Robin better than any of them. The Former Boy Wonder should be in good hands. She couldn’t just stop her life to take care of Dick. 

Brushing her fears aside, Babs brought up the schedule she had previously been working on, and the nonurgent messages that had been recorded for the YJ team leader. Beast Boy and Lagoon Boy were making steady progress helping Aquaman rescue people caught in Bangladesh’s recent flood. M’gann’s team had followed the trail to a drug cartel headquarters in a border town of Mexico. They had parked the bioship for the time being and planned to investigate the area. 

Something was off about this mission. Most drug cartels weren’t chemistry experts, and smash was a complicated formula. There might be high levels of smash protected behind the walls of the cartel’s base, but the chemist responsible for the formula was likely distant from the ground work. If they wanted to get smash off the streets permanently, they would need to find the person responsible for its creation. Still, demolishing a large quantity of the drug would give the people of Bludhaven and other cities more leeway. Any death they could prevent was worth it. 

Setting a notification to check back in with Alpha in an hour, the genius returned to her puzzle. Ten minutes in, Black Canary interrupted her. 

“Batgirl, I hear congratulations are in order.” 

“Thank you,” Barbara replied. “How can I help you?” 

“I also heard that you spent most of the day training your team. I’m glad you want to be an active part of their training, but remember they also have their mentors and several other League members including me to help. Please do not stretch yourself to thin,” the older woman said. 

Babs felt the tendrils of irritation creeping across her skin. “I can handle it.” 

Dinah lifted her hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “I know what it is like to need to prove yourself to be just as tough as the men, but I also know that Young Justice will fail if we lose another leader to burnout.” 

The younger woman considered this. Was it more important to prove herself or to help the team thrive? The answer was obvious, but it forced her to swallow a large amount of her pride, which the genius did not want to do. She nodded in reply. 

“Good.” Dinah nodded, handing the redhead a piece of paper. “This is the list of team members that still need to complete their mandatory counseling sessions to deal with the stress of the invasion.” 

Barbara looked at the document. “This has all current team members listed.”

The blonde shrugged. “There seems to be a certain stigma around caring for one’s mental and emotional health. I was hoping you’d be willing to lead by example.” 

Biting back an inappropriate comment, Babs replied, “Of course. Does tomorrow morning work for you?” 

The less than subtle look Dinah gave her proved that Black Canary was no stranger to the Bats’ opinion on therapy. Still, if she wanted Dick to try, she would need to experience it as well. Maybe she could learn better ways to assist Dick in his recovery. 

“Tomorrow morning is fine. See you then,” the older woman replied before exiting. 

Glancing at the clock, she had approximately thirty minutes before she would be needed to assist Team Alpha. Batgirl would do as much as she could before then, but after that she’d rest for the night. Barbara would not work to the point of exhaustion to prove herself. As much as she could have and wanted to stay up to finish her work, someone needed to set a decent example of self-care for the younger heroes. 

 

Helping Artemis and the others sneak passed the drug cartel’s security went smoothly; her morning meeting with Black Canary did not. Barbara had wanted to focus on tips and strategies to help Dick. Instead Dinah focused on how Babs was feeling after the whole invasion crisis and what was underlying her need to be perfect _as if striving for perfection were some sort of sin._ Still, she understood why therapy would be helpful to other people. She’d keep her thoughts private and encourage the younger heroes to go lest any of them be harboring suicidal or self-deprecating thoughts. 

The red-headed genius had just about finished the monumental task of scheduling the YJ team through the fall when the communication light blinked. 

“This is Nightwing to Young Justice.” The familiar voice of Dick Grayson came through her headset. 

“This is Batgirl,” Barbara replied. 

If Dick was surprised that Barbara answered instead of Kaldur, he didn’t show it. “Requesting Tigress to be recalled at earliest convenience code 0012 Alpha.” 

_Family Emergency? What had happened?_

“Tigress is on her way home as we speak. Her current mission was a success.” Alpha Team had destroyed all the containers of smash they could find. There was no reason to trouble Dick with her thoughts regarding the need to locate and subdue the chemist responsible for smash. 

“Acknowledged. Nightwing out.” 

Her phone beeped with a text notification from Dick. 

_I know you want more information, Ms. Busy Body. Iris is in labor. Barry thinks her trip to the speedforce is the culprit. Wally needs backup._

Before she could reply that wanting information did not make her a busy body, Babs received another text from Dick. 

_I won’t tell Bruce you have your civilian phone on you while you’re Batgirl, but you’ve got to break that habit._

Barbara rolled her eyes and ignored the original Boy Wonder. She had work to do. 

 

Over the next couple of days, Batgirl developed a schedule that allowed her to train members of YJ, plan contingencies for possible mission mishaps, and search for the missing chemist. Not having to patrol Gotham was even allowing her to get a solid seven hours of sleep a night, which would end as soon as the fall term started, but it was nice for the time being. Of course, there also hadn’t been any sort of real emergency since she took the job – except the genius did have to explain to Jaime that misplacing his queso was not actually a crisis that required outside involvement. Barbara should have known that wouldn’t last. 

Her personal communicator buzzed. 

“Robin to Batgirl. Code red. Requesting immediate assistance.” 

The vigilante scooped up the device. “This is Batgirl. Go ahead.” 

There was a slight pause, and Barbara wanted to scream at the newest Robin. When Tim began speaking again, there was a tremble in his voice. “The second Robin was resurrected via Lazarus Pit.” 

Jason… Jason was alive?! Her little Watson couldn’t be alive. She had stood at his graveside, dropped her red rose onto his coffin, and left father and son to grieve the lost member of their family. Barbara had buried her brother that day, but the loss wasn’t as deep as it was for the two men. Could he possibly be alive? It was possible with the Lazarus Pit, but who would have placed his corpse in the pool? Bruce couldn’t have done it. The healing waters of the Lazarus Pit were known to cause insanity, among other problems. Oh, no. Was he insane? Oh, Jason. 

Tim was still talking. “…pursuing Batman.” 

Kicking herself for losing focus, Batgirl asked Robin to repeat his message. 

“Robin 2 has been resurrected via Lazarus Pit. He’s taken the alias Red Hood. Joker has escaped Arkham. Batman has left to apprehend him. Nightwing has also left the cave and is pursuing Batman.” 

The genius immediately pulled up all the recent news articles regarding the Red Hood and the Joker in Gotham. Murder and mayhem ran rampant in the stories. _This is not handling the city, Bruce._

“Where are you?” 

Another pause. “In the cave. I am injured.” 

“More injured than Nightwing?” Barbara asked, incredulous. 

“Bullet wound to my right shoulder,” Robin replied. 

Tim had been shot?! And no one bothered to tell her. Barbara was tired of feeling like a throwaway protégé simply because she had never been Robin. She took a deep breathe to calm her thoughts. She needed to focus. Gathering up the gear she would need, Batgirl headed towards the Zeta tube. 

“Acknowledged. Nightwing’s status?” 

There was an extended pause. “Compromised. I’m sending Batman’s and Nightwing’s location to your computer.” 

“Acknowledged.” 

Zetaing to the Batcave, Barbara didn’t even spare a glance toward Robin as she jumped on to her motorcycle and sped towards downtown. She patched into the Bat communications channel. There was static for a moment. Then Dick’s voice. 

“I’ll make you a deal, Little Wing. I’ll kill the Joker, and you’ll go home with Batman.” 

The female vigilante’s stomach turned to lead. 

_No, Dick. Don’t you dare._

Batgirl pushed her motorcycle to faster speeds. She couldn’t be late. She needed to stop Dick from doing something he’d regret. 

The Dark Knight’s protégé switched to a private channel. 

“Batman, status?” 

“I’m in pursuit, but my mobility has been limited,” he replied. 

She swerved to avoid an oncoming car. “I’m ten minutes out.” Batgirl checked the status in her helmet’s HUD. “Seven if I push it.” 

“Push it,” Bruce ordered. 

Batgirl switched back to the open channel. “You heard me, Hood. You go home with Batman, and I’ll kill the Joker.” 

Barbara nearly crashed her bike. 

_Oh, dear God._

_No, please no._

Dick wasn’t planning to survive the night. 

Oh, God. 

The genius replayed Nightwing’s words. Both times he told Jason to go home with Bruce, not us. Dick loved his little brother too much to leave himself out of a potential homecoming unless the man was planning on doing something colossally stupid. Anger that matched her hair flared up in Barbara. Dick had promised. He had promised. 

That idiot spent so much time reassuring everyone he was fine, and then he jumped to murder/suicide as a plan. Barbara wanted to scream!

Batgirl’s senses kicked in seconds before she almost collided with a turned over truck. Jumping off the bike, the hero summersaulted away from the impeding crash. Cursing at herself, the genius refocused. She could yell at Dick later. Right now, she needed all of her focus on saving him and Jason. 

Ditching the bike and her helmet, she grappled to a roof. Through the commlink she could hear Nightwing try to talk Jason down. _Where is all that logic with yourself, you stupid idiot?_ Batgirl was still two blocks away. She pushed herself to run faster. She couldn’t be late. She wouldn’t be. 

Barbara was only a building away when she heard the Joker’s cackle through her comm. 

“This has certainly been an enlightening conversation, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to make a slight change to the plans.”

She saw the pair tumble of the building. She shot her grapple without double-checking to make sure it was secure. She would only have one chance at this. Batgirl missed Nightwing’s torso, but his arm reached for hers and she snagged it out of midair. 

Blinding, red hot pain seared through her shoulder. The weight and momentum of even Dick’s emaciated body forced her shoulder out of socket. Gritting through the pain, she pressed the recoil. Seconds later, they were on the roof. Batgirl leaned against the lip of the rooftop, breathing to control her pain. 

When the pain passed enough for her to focus, the genius saw Nightwing and Red Hood looking over the building to the ground. Batman was slowly making his way towards the pair. Forcing herself to stand, she cradled her injured arm to her chest and approached the men. 

Gazing towards the ground below, she saw the Joker’s mangled body. The pasty skin of the head stood out amidst the dark blood that pooled beneath it. His legs were bent at weird angles. 

Jason, his helmet removed, was the first to break the silence. 

“He’s dead.” 

The words seemed to startle Dick into action. Nightwing took one look at his mentor and jumped off the roof. Thankfully, he shot his grapple. He was running away from them.  
Barbara felt inexplicably exhausted. Turning away from the corpse, she looked at Jason, who hadn’t stopped staring at the Joker’s broken body. Batgirl didn’t know if she had the strength to help the clearly traumatized man. 

Afraid to touch him and startle him, Babs spoke softly, “Hey Little Watson, you’re alive.” 

Jason snorted and turned to face her. “I told you, Barbie, you can’t be Sherlock. Sherlock doesn’t have red hair.” 

Barbara laughed. This was why she loved Jason Todd. Most boys would have told her that she couldn’t be Sherlock because the famous detective was a male. Leave it to her Watson to complain because of hair color. No matter what he had done, her little brother was still there. 

She pulled him into a one-armed hug. The man – no longer a boy – stiffened but eventually relaxed. 

There was a wetness in his voice when he spoke. “Yeah, I missed you two, Barbie.” 

Hearing Batman call for the Flash or Superman through the comm reminded her that she couldn’t savor this moment like she wanted. Pulling away from the hug, she looked Jason in the eye, which she now had to look up to do. 

“Jason, there’s a lot to tell you, but there’s no time. Right now, I need you to find Dick.” 

He made a face. “Aren’t you worried I’m going to try and murder your precious boyfriend?” 

Ignoring the boyfriend comment, she replied, “No, I’m worried he’s going to murder himself.” 

Jason pulled back and his face showed confusion, then a dawning horror. “No,” he said. “No, Dick wouldn’t. I mean – he wouldn’t.” 

Babs wished she didn’t have to be the one to tell a newly resurrected and probably still pit mad Jason Todd that his older brother was suicidal, but they didn’t have any options. Batman was limping badly, even he hadn’t been foolhardy enough to grapple after his eldest. There was no way Batgirl could help with her dislocated shoulder. 

“Go get him and prove me wrong.” She pulled off her glove, which had the holocomputer with Nightwing’s tracker. 

Gingerly Jason took the glove. He nodded once and then shot off after Dick. Barbara could only pray that her two boys would come home safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Were you expecting that? Do you agree with Babs about Dick's plan? Any guesses onto Bruce's thoughts? 
> 
> Sorry for the delay. This chapter caused me a bit of trouble. Believe it or not I kept rewriting how Babs would respond to therapy even though that was only a few sentences. Plus, the chemist stuff took a bit. 
> 
> In case anyone was wondering the idea for the Barbara/Artemis friendship came from my desire for to make sure this fic passed the Bechdel Test and my desire for more female friendships in superhero/sci-fi stuff. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made for these two women who knew Dick and Robin to be friends. I've had a lot of fun writing them together. :) 
> 
> Also, if Dick and Jason are closer than you can bet that Babs and Jason are closer as well! 
> 
> Next time is our favorite speedster's POV.


	19. Chapter 18: Wally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jason is confused and angry, Dick is struggling, and Wally just wants a normal life.

A nudge to his shoulder catapulted Wally into awareness. He cast his eyes around the now empty hospital waiting room before they stopped at the sight of his girlfriend – his fiancée.

A soft smile tugged at her lips. Her blonde hair, still wet, had been recently washed and was pulled up into a loose ponytail. She wore grey sweatpants and an oversized black t-shirt. She was the most beautiful girl in the world. 

“Hey,” Wally greeted her with a smile of his own. “When you’d get back?” 

“About thirty minutes ago,” Artemis replied. “I had to shower and change before I could head over.” 

It was then that Wally noticed the beginnings of grey discoloration under her eyes, and the weariness in the archer’s shoulders. 

“You need some rest,” he stated. 

Artemis snorted. “So do you, Wall-Man.” She gestured with her head to the door. “Let’s go.” 

The young speedster didn’t hesitate often, but when he did it was noticeable. Artemis offered him her hand, which he took on pure reflex. Pulling slightly, she succeeded in getting him to stand. 

“Your cousins will be fine,” she said. “We both need a nap.” 

Wally balked at that. “I _was_ napping.” 

“In a plastic hospital chair?” Artemis replied, incredulous. “You would have woken up stiff and sore, and I’d have to listen to your whining.” 

“That is an affront to my character. I never complain.” 

His beautiful girl rolled her eyes, but he saw the smile that graced her face. 

“Do you want to meet them?” He asked. “They’re kinda ugly and scrunchy.” 

“Wally!” Artemis cried as she slapped him in the arm. 

“I mean they’re beautiful – in that weird sorta, this creature is related to me, so I think I love them kind of way,” he corrected. “But also, totally ugly.” 

Shaking her head at his antics, she replied, “Lead on, Kid Mouth.” 

Entering the NICU was a process of scrubbing down and covering up. Once the pair was properly attired, they entered to a room where four babies were nestled in incubators. Wally’s uncle and aunt stood facing the two that held his cousins. 

Barry turned to face the newcomers, voice horse from lack of sleep. “I thought I told you to get some rest.” 

Wally barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. Kid Flash had retired, which meant Flash’s ability to boss him around had ended. He was about to reply with a reminder when Artemis’s gloved hand squeezed his own. 

Appreciative of the warning, he said instead, “I’m heading home soon. I just thought I’d introduce Artemis to her new cousins.” 

Barry’s face smiled, and Iris turned her attention from where she was stroking Dawn through the incubator’s hand inserts. 

“You can follow his advice when he takes his own,” Iris said, removing her arms from her daughter and gesturing for Artemis to come closer. “This is Dawn.” The red-haired women gestured to the incubator on her left. “And this is Don.” 

Artemis blinked. Wally bit his lip to prevent the smile that threatened to burst from his face. 

Barry grinned. “This way we’ll never get them confused.” 

The look on Wally’s aunt’s face was priceless. The young speedster still didn’t know how his uncle had managed to convince his aunt that those names were a good idea. 

Iris leaned closer to Artemis. “I was out of it after giving birth,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Never let a speedster name your children.” 

Twin shouts of indignation filled the room. The women smirked at their respective partners. 

Speaking of speedsters. “Where’s Bart?”

“At home, resting,” Barry said. “It seems at least someone listens to me.” 

Wally rolled his eyes good naturedly. “More likely, you threatened to bench him if he didn’t listen.” 

Barry and Iris shared a look, which placed their nephew on edge. 

“Speaking of benching,” Barry began. “Kid, I need to speak with you.” 

Wally’s stomach plummeted to his feet. His mouth went instantly dry. He had a bad feeling about this. 

The two speedsters left the NICU and headed towards the waiting room. Uncle Barry was vibrating with the nervous energy he couldn’t contain. Wally was reminded of himself as a thirteen-year-old kid too full of excitement to stay still. Slowly and patiently, Uncle Barry taught him how to slow his body to the speeds of normal people. To see his uncle unable to control the vibrations in his hand, which was tucked into the pocket on his pants, did not bode well. 

“I have a favor to ask,” Barry said. “I know you’re retired, and I’m not asking for full time, but I need to be here with Iris and the twins.” 

Inside of him, there was a young teenager, who wanted nothing more than to become worthy of the Justice League, to be a real hero, to be the Flash. But now. After everything, all Wally wanted was a normal life. A life where he didn’t worry ever minute if his fiancée would return alive from some mission in a foreign country or if his best friend would make that final jump or if he’d be stuck in the speedforce for the rest of eternity. Wally West felt tired. The weight of waiting, the weight of hero work pressed down onto his shoulders. 

Wally had tried for a normal life with Artemis, but that had not been in the cards. Perhaps there was a god or a force or something that was determined to keep the young speedster stuck in this world. Looking at his uncle now, Wally could see the stress Barry was under. His uncle, who had taken him in, taught him, and believed in him, was cracking. There really was only one answer.

“Yeah, Uncle Barry, I’ll cover for you as The Flash.” 

The relief in the older man’s smile lifted some of the reluctance from the younger man’s shoulders. 

“Thank you, Wally,” Barry replied. “Just a few months, I promise. I’ll put in a request for leave from the League. Barring any world ending crisis, you’ll just need to watch over Central City.” 

He nodded. “And Bart?” 

His uncle ran a hand through his oily hair. “Yeah, Bart. How do you think he is doing?” 

Shocked by the question, Wally shrugged his shoulders. “Fine, I guess. He seems happy enough.” 

“Yes, he seems happy.” A beat. “But he shouldn’t be. My grandson lived in an apocalyptic future, travelled back in time to save the world...” Barry shook his head. “I’m afraid he’s in denial.” 

Wally chuckled. “Speedsters are known for that.” 

His uncle shot him a humorless look. “Speaking of denial,” Barry began. 

“Don’t.” Wally’s tone was acid. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

The hand in his uncle’s pocket stilled. “You can’t just ignore what happened, Wally.” 

He very intentionally changed the subject. “You want to bench Bart,” the younger man said. It wasn’t a question. 

The blond-haired man sighed, dropping the subject for now. “I just want to give him time to adjust to a world that’s not in peril,” Barry replied.

The redhead bit back a pang. Bart wanted to be a hero, but he needed rest. Wally wanted out, but was stuck inside. Life rarely offered what anyone wanted. 

“It’s not a terrible idea, but if you do give him a timeframe. You know he’ll go crazy if he has to wait for an unspecified period of time.” 

Speedsters were _not_ good at waiting.

Barry nodded and pulled his nephew into a hug. “Go get some rest. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow, Flash.”

 

Artemis and Wally cuddled next to each other on the couch of their apartment. Brucely slept next to them. Artemis had her feet tucked underneath the warm animal, who occasionally snored in his sleep. 

“What about pre-law?” Wally asked. 

The blonde snorted. “I can barely stand undergrad, and you want me to add three years of law school.” 

“I just think you’d make a fantastic lawyer.” 

“I think I’m a fantastic archer.” 

“Being an archer doesn’t pay.”

Artemis poked him in his side. “I thought that’s what I was marrying you for.”

“See.” Wally laughed. “You already have the debate skills down.” 

His fiancée nestled closer to him. “I’ll think about it, okay?” 

The speedster looked down at the woman he loved. “I just don’t think you’ll be happy in the business world.” 

Artemis didn’t argue. Instead she turned on the TV. “I’ll think about it,” she repeated. “Now, there’s still a couple weeks before the semester starts, and I don’t intend to spend them talking about school.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

She elbowed him a little harder than was strictly necessary. 

“Omph,” Wally cried. 

“Just shut up, and hold me, Wall-Man.” 

Wally grinned. “With pleasure, my lady.” 

An explosion from the poor quality action film lit the apartment when the Flash’s communicator buzzed.

“Batman to Flash and Superman. Code Red in Gotham. Requesting immediate assistance.” 

Wally’s stomach plummeted to his feet. He grabbed the communicator and raced towards Gotham. 

“Nightwing is in need of immediate assistance.” 

The newly minted Flash nearly tripped over the air as he raced through the Midwest’s cornfields. Cold fear crawled into his stomach. 

“Flash to Batman: I’m in route.” 

“Acknowledged. I’m sending you his location.” 

There were so many questions Flash wanted to ask but he stifled them in favor on running faster. In a blink, he was on top of the Wayne Enterprise building in the heart of downtown Gotham. Nightwing stood on the edge, looking across the city. The speedster’s mind flashed back to another night three years ago when he found Dick standing on a bridge, staring out over the water. 

Wally tried to speak, but his mouth was dry. His tongue stuck to his mouth.

“I’m not going to jump.” Nightwing broke the silence without turning around. “It’s easier to think up high.” 

Wally walked closer to his friend. He found the ability to speak again. 

Ignoring his fear, he asked, “What are you thinking about?”

For a long moment, Nightwing was silent. 

“Did I ever tell you how different Bruce and my dad were?” 

The speedster froze. No, Dick definitely hadn’t. Dick Grayson did not talk about his parents. Sure. He’d talk about the circus and flying on the trapeze, but if Wally had ever asked about Mary and John Grayson his friend lips clamped shut. 

“My dad lived for the moment. He hated being tied down with plans. Mom, though.” Dick choked on a laugh. “Mom kept the family running. Alfred and Mom would have gotten along.” 

“They sound like great people,” Wally replied. 

“They’re dead,” Dick whispered. His voice became nearly inaudible. “Dead like the Joker.” 

“The Joker’s dead?” 

Dick’s voice was lifeless. “I killed him like I killed you, my parents, Jason.” Tears glistened off his cheeks. “I kill everyone.” 

Wally’s voice was firm. “Dick, I’m not dead.” 

Nightwing didn’t reply. 

“Why don’t you come down? We can go the manor and talk over some of Alfred’s hot cocoa?” 

Dick gave a bitter laugh and choked on his next words. “Wally, you’re not listening. I killed the Joker. I can never go home.” 

“Okay.” Wally refused to argue with his friend. “Then we can go to my place. But Dick, please can you walk away from the ledge?” 

His friend’s reply was cut short as a man plowed into him and tackled them both onto the ground of the roof. Wally pulled the man off of Dick. The man elbowed him in the diaphragm. Hard.

“Back off, Flash. I need to talk with Dickhead.” 

Whoever this man was, he knew who Dick was. Wally was about to knock this man out and deal with the consequences later when Nightwing gestured for him to stand down. 

“What the hell are you doing?” The newcomer growled. 

“I was thinking,” Dick said with that same lost voice. He didn’t move from his spot. His knees curled into his chest and he stared at the ground in front of him. 

“Yeah, what about?” The man asked, towering over Nightwing. “Cuz it looked like you were thinking about a long drop with a sudden stop.” 

“It doesn’t matter. Leave me alone, Little Wing.” 

Little Wing? This couldn’t be. “Jason?” Flash asked. 

The man ignored him. “Oh, it definitely matters, Dickhead.” 

Dick didn’t reply. Wally zipped between them. It was Jason, but how? Resurrection was scientifically impossible. And Jason had been dead. 

“This is a family matter,” Jason said. “Beat it.” 

“Oh, like hell, I’m leaving Dick alone with your emotionally constipated family,” Wally argued. 

Jason grabbed the front of the Flash’s uniform. “I’ll show you emotional constipation.” 

The speedster vibrated out of the grip. Before he could whip around and knock the troublesome man out, Dick stood up. 

“Just once, could you two get along?” 

“Sure, Dickie, I’ll play nice.” Jason smirked. “As long as you tell me what the hell you were thinking?” 

Dick groaned and ran a hand down his face. “A lot. I was thinking about a lot of things.” 

“Are you bleeding?” Wally interrupted. 

The midsection of the Nightwing uniform looked darker than the rest. 

Dick cursed. “Jason must have pulled my stitches with that move.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be out on the streets with stitches,” Jason countered. 

“We need to get you back to the Cave,” Wally declared. 

“I told you. I can’t go back to the Cave.” 

Jason’s brow furrowed. “And why’s that?” 

Dick shot his brother a look. “You know why.”

“Enlighten the rest of the class,” Jason said. 

“I killed the Joker. Bruce will never let me back.” 

The younger man threw his head back and laughed. Then, he thrust a finger at Dick, who was curling in on his wound. “First, you didn’t kill the Joker. That bastard got what he deserved. And second, if you can’t go back over an accidental killing, just what were you expecting to happen when I went back with Batman?” 

Dick’s face was rapidly losing color. “That was different.” 

Jason snorted. 

“Debate later,” Wally snapped. “Dick needs medical attention now.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Shut the hell up!” Wally yelled, turning to his friend. “You are still twenty pounds underweight, not to even mention the muscle mass you lost. Your body won’t survive blood loss. We are going back to the Cave even if I have to knock you out to get you there. Do not test me on this, Dick.” He turned to face the other man. “And Jason, I don’t know what is going on, and I don’t care, but you are coming back with us as well.” 

“I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“You promised, Jay.” 

A war waged across Jason’s features. “Fine, but if Batman and I end up killing each other. You only have yourself to blame.” 

Fury raced through Wally’s veins. In under a second, he ran up and down the side of the building to cool off. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if the Flash radiated anger while dealing with Bat family drama. 

“Nightwing, can you call the Batmobile?” The speedster could carry his friend to the Batcave, but that left Jason traveling alone. Wally didn’t trust what the younger man would do if he didn’t travel with them, and he didn’t think Dick would handle Jason’s disappearance well. 

“Nightwing to Cave. Can you send the Batmobile to Wayne Enterprises?” Dick asked. 

There was a pause as Dick listened. 

“Acknowledged. Don’t worry, Agent A, both birds are coming home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I'm glad to be done with the rooftop scenes of angst. Next up, everyone is back in the cave. What could possibly go wrong? 
> 
> I don't know why, but it's harder for me to get inside Wally's head. The reason you don't get as much of what Wally is thinking is because he's an external processor instead of an internal processor like Bruce. But if he seemed out of character or you just have suggestions for writing his character, please let me know. Constructive feedback is always welcome!


	20. Chapter 19: Alfred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alfred is 1000% done with Bat Boys and their terrible decision making skills.

“You’re lucky this doesn’t require surgery, Master Bruce,” Alfred said as he finished the cast. Barbara, who had already been fitted into a sling, handed him a pair of crutches. “And you will use these for the full six weeks, Sir.” 

Bruce accepted the crutches and stood. “Batman can’t be off the streets for that long.”

The entrance of the Batmobile interrupted Alfred’s scalding reply. Wally West, dressed in the Flash’s uniform with the cowl down, deposited Dick in the medical bed Bruce had vacated. 

“I told you I can walk, Wally,” Dick complained.

“You conveniently forgot to mention you were shot. You don’t get a say,” Wallace retorted, crossing his arms so quickly that they phased through one another. 

Alfred snapped his gloves into place. “Where’s the bullet wound?” 

“It’s just a graze, Alfred.” 

The butler merely raised one eyebrow in response. Given Richard’s ability to hold a coherent conversation, the blood loss should not be near fatal levels, but his annoyance with his charge continued to escalate. 

Mr. West took a more direct approach. He yanked at the Nightwing uniform in an attempt to remove it. Dick hissed and curled into his side. Alfred would be unable to work with Wallace’s constant interference. Normally, Alfred would send overly concerned parties to attend some chore in the manor to occupy their minds and fool them into productivity. Unfortunately, any task he’d give Wallace would be finished within three minutes. He would need to be creative. 

“Mr. West,” The elderly man said, drawing Wallace’s attention to him. “Millie’s Tea Ship is located in Ipswich. I need you to go and pick up her peppermint and passion flower blend.” 

Wallace blinked. “I don’t –” 

“I neither have the time nor the inclination to inform you about the health benefits of tea. If you want to be useful, you’ll do as I ask.” 

“Right.” Mr. West nodded and sped out of the cave. 

“You could have just asked him to stop vibrating.” Richard choked on a laugh.

Alfred made a skeptical noise in the back of his throat. “Are there any other injuries you are trying to hide besides the bullet wound and the broken ribs?”

“My ribs aren’t broken,” his charge protested. 

Alfred stared at his grandson who was still curled protectively around himself. Richard neglected to reply but slowly straightened his body. 

“Now, can you remove the suit on your own or shall I cut it?” 

“I got it,” Richard replied. 

Unsurprised by his choice, Alfred left the man to it. Barbara and Timothy had already loaded his supply table with the medical equipment he would need. 

“Master Timothy, if you would get an IV started for Richard. Ms. Gordon, if you would grab a pain reliever for yourself and Master Bruce,” Alfred said as he threaded a stitching needle. 

Timothy started the IVs and Alfred began his work. The butler was halfway through stitching the first wound when Richard started slurring his words. It took another minute for the young man to realize what had transpired. He unsuccessfully batted at his arm with the IV. 

“Alfie, no. I need –”

“What you need, Richard, is to heal,” Alfred snapped. 

His charge was out before he could muster a reply. 

Barbara snorted. “I think you mixed it a little strong, Alfred.” 

“Well, perhaps next time he’ll do as he is told and stay in the cave.” The elderly man finished the last of the stitches. 

“When someone he loves is in danger? We both know that’ll never happen,” she replied. Then she gestured over towards the entrance of the cave. “I’ve got this bird.” 

“You have my thanks,” Alfred said. He removed his blood-soaked gloves and turned around. 

His grandson, Jason Peter Todd, stood, shifting his weight and fidgeting with his hands in his pockets. The boy had moved less than five feet away from the Batmobile. Alfred’s heart stopped. His grandson. Jason was alive. The joy and disbelief bubbled in the normally stoic man. 

“Jason,” he said as he approached the boy – man. He was a man now. “I am glad to see you, my boy.” 

Jason shifted on his feet, eyes darting behind the butler to the medical room.

“I shot, Dick.” 

“Yes, well, he deserved it; I’m sure.” 

Jason laughed, and the sound warmed the old man’s heart. 

“Did he put mud in the coffee pot again?” 

Alfred deigned not to reply. He was close enough to touch the boy now but didn’t want to spook him. Instead, he opened his arms. “Come here, lad.” 

Jason shook his head. This close Alfred could see Jason’s once blue eyes appeared half green. 

“Alfie, I killed people.” 

Alfred threw his arms around his lost grandson. “So have I,” he whispered in the man’s ear. Long ago, while he served in MI-5, but stealing the life of another was not something one forgot. “You forgot your way home, Master Jason, but I’m glad you’ve returned.” 

If grandfather an grandson cried as they embraced, neither said a word about it. 

Alfred pulled away first. “Now, go hug your father. He’s too inept to properly ask you himself.”

Bruce had positioned himself, so that the man could keep both his sons in view, yet he did nothing. Fat lot of good the man’s intellect did, if he couldn’t even figure out that now was not the time to observe. 

“He doesn’t want to touch me, Alfred. He might catch my murder germs.” 

“Hogwash,” the butler replied, pushing Jason towards Bruce. If the lad truly didn’t want to go, the elderly man never would have been able to push him, but the two stubborn men fell into an embrace that would have made Master Richard proud. 

Alfred surveyed the cave. Ms. Gordon held Richard’s hand in the med bay. Bruce and Jason should be able to have a conversation without blowing up the cave. However, one of his charges was missing, and he had a fairly good idea where Timothy had disappeared to. 

He found Timothy attempting to leave the manor. 

“Headed home, Master Timothy?” 

The boy flinched, clearly not expecting someone to notice his departure. He didn’t turn around to face Alfred, gaze directed towards the manor’s large exterior door. 

“I, I just thought,” he mumbled. 

“You thought that now that Master Jason has returned to us that we’d have no need of you,” Alfred surmised. 

Still refusing to turn around, the boy nodded. 

Alfred placed one hand on the teenager’s shoulder. “My dear lad, come here.” He pulled another one of his charges into a hug. He could not remember the last time he given two hugs in one day. If word got out, Richard would pester him for days. _Hmm, maybe that was an idea to keep the blasted boy still._

The British man kindly didn’t mention the dampening of his shirt as the young man cried. Alfred waited a moment than crouched down to Timothy’s eye level. “You are always welcome in this household. Master Bruce, may be a bloody idiot over the next few days, but he cares for you, Timothy.” 

The teenager nodded slowly in response. 

“Now, do you honestly wish to leave the manor and this life behind?” 

Timothy replied quickly, “No, but –”

“No buts,” Alfred interrupted. He turned the teenager, so that he was facing the stairs instead of the door. “Go wash and head to bed. You’ll need your strength in the coming weeks.” 

“I,” the boy started. “Thank you, Alfred.” 

“I live to serve.” 

By the time, Alfred returned to the cave, in an unrumpled suit, Master Bruce had managed to muck everything up. They’d be lucky if the yelling didn’t wake Richard. 

“Can you two stop this?” Barbara asked; she had positioned herself in between the two men. 

“He shot Dick and Tim," Bruce growled. “The guns are not staying in my cave.” 

Jason pointed one of his guns at his father. “Don’t make me shoot you as well.” 

“Enough,” Alfred snapped as he descended the last steps into the cave. “Bruce, you are an adult. Try acting like it for once. Jason, you and I will be having tea. The guns, like all other equipment, will not be brought into the manor. Is that clear?” 

Bruce clicked his jaw shut. His grandson looked down at the ground and nodded. 

“Very good. Ms. Gordon, if you would please show Jason where he may store his belongings?”

Slightly amazed, she nodded. 

The pair left, and Alfred turned to his original charge. 

“It’s time for bed, Master Bruce.” 

The man snorted. “Alfred, Dick’s been shot. Jason’s alive. I don’t have time for sleep.” 

“You’ve been awake for nearly 72 hours. You’re no use to them half-dead from sleep-deprivation.” 

Bruce ignored him. 

“I was afraid you’d ignore sound advice, which is why I laced your pain killers with a sedative. I’d imagine you have about twenty minutes before you collapse upon which I’ll ask Mister West to carry you to your bed, or you could choose to be an adult and go to bed now.”

The billionaire genius glared at him. Alfred rose one eyebrow. Bruce’s shoulders dropped. 

“You’ll take care of them?”

Perhaps another night, the faithful servant would have been annoyed, but tonight, he understood. “Don’t I always?”

Bruce nodded, sent one more look towards Dick and Jason, and climbed the staircase. 

Wallace sped into the room, looking around. “What’d I miss?” 

Alfred took the tea before the speedster crushed it. “Nothing much. Masters Timothy and Bruce have retired for the evening.” Jason and Barbara emerged from the locker rooms. “Jason and I are going to have some tea. If you and Ms. Gordon insist on staying with Richard this evening, I expect you to take shifts and get some rest.” 

The female redhead stepped forward before her male counterpart could say something foolish. “Of course, Alfred.” 

He nodded; Jason followed him up the stairs. 

Jason was silent as he accompanied the butler to the kitchen. Sometimes he would stop and stare at a particular place for a few seconds before jolting back into awareness. Alfred didn’t press. He allowed Jason to settle himself as he brewed the tea. He set the pot and two cups on the table. The boy finally looked up. 

“You remembered my favorite,” he said. 

“Of course,” Alfred replied. There was no reason to mention that Alfred hadn’t tasted this specific blend since Jason had been buried. 

The two sat in silence. Jason stirred honey into his tea. He continued absentmindedly stirring long after the honey mixed in. Alfred sipped his tea while he waited for the man to speak. 

“I shot Dick,” he stated, voice heavy with guilt. 

“I’ve half a mind to shoot him myself if it will keep him in that bed.” 

Jason blinked and looked at Alfred. His normally bright blue eyes appeared cyan. “Why are you so angry with him?” 

The elderly man regretted his words. It would not do to stress the healing boy in front of him with his concerns for his brother. 

“Pardon me, Master Jason. I misspoke.” 

Jason’s eyes faded towards more blue than green; his face scrunched up in the way it had as a child when he was struggling with some challenge. 

“He’s done something, hasn’t he?”

“Many things, I’m afraid, but that is hardly the talk for reunions. Where have you been?” 

The teenager’s eyes flashed towards green before settling back to a blue-green. “I don’t know.” 

“How long have you been back in Gotham?” 

Jason shrugged. “A few months.” 

“Did it not occur to you that your family would have rejoiced at your return?” 

Blue-green eyes flashed to bright green. Jason stood. “No, because he left that bastard alive and replaced me!” The man knocked his tea cup over; eyes fading back. “Shit, Alfred, I’m sorry.” 

“You are not too old to have your mouth washed out with soap, young man.” 

Jason laughed. His eyes sparked closer to their natural blue. “Is the mop still in the closet?” 

Alfred nodded. 

After mopping his spilt tea, Jason collapsed in his chair. “Alfred, I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

The British man reached out and squeezed the boy’s hand. “We will figure it out together. That’s what families do.” 

Shaking his head, Jason gave a bittersweet laugh. “I’m pretty sure Bruce wants to throw me in the loony bin.” 

“He’ll have to go through me,” Alfred stated. Then he mock-whispered, “You know he’s never beaten me in an argument.” 

“That’s because you cheat.” 

The British man sipped his tea, refusing to reply to the comment. 

“Your father loves you, Jason. Even if he’s terrible at showing it,” he said. “He didn’t replace you. He and your brother were complete wrecks after your passing. I recommend looking at the case files during that time. Timothy stepped in to try to curve Bruce’s downward spiral. I think you’ll enjoy getting to know him.” At Jason’s skeptical look, he added, “Promise me, you’ll at least give him a chance.” 

The teenager sighed. “Okay.” 

Alfred nodded. “Very good. Now I think it’s well passed time, we head to bed. Would you like to sleep in your old room or a guest room?” 

“A guest room,” Jason said quickly. 

“Very well.” 

Once he had Jason squared away with a promise to at least try and sleep, Alfred returned to the sitting room attached to his quarters. There was a dark red ornamental reading chair with a matching foot stool. Beside the chair, there was an end table with a bronze lamp with a stain-glass shade. His Bible rested on the table, still opened to the passage he read this morning. 

He ignored it and instead rested his knees on the prayer stool. His _Book of Common Prayer_ laid on top of the stool. He flipped through it until he found the prayer that he had prayed far too many times over the years. 

_Most merciful God, whose wisdom is beyond our understanding: Deal graciously with me in my trouble. Surround me with your love, that I may not be overwhelmed by my present circumstances, but have confidence in your goodness, and strength to meet the days to come; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen._

 

The next morning, Alfred awoke before any of his charges. He planned to head down to the cave to check on Richard, but the doorbell prevented that venture. Hoping it would not be something that would require too much of his attention, he opened the door.

“Mr. Kent, I must say I’m surprised. How can I be of service?” 

Clark stepped into the manor. “Alfred, it’s good to see you.” His eyes shifted across the room, no doubt searching for eavesdroppers. “Bruce put in an emergency call last night regarding Dick. I tried to Zeta over, but he’s got the Cave on lock down.” 

_Of course, he does._

“I’m sorry to show up unannounced, Alfred, but I had to know. Is everything alright?” 

Alfred saw no reason to put on a front. “No, I’m afraid it is not. Come to the kitchen. I’ll put on a pot of coffee and explain.” 

Clark nodded. 

Before the coffee had finished brewing, there was another knock at the door.

“Excuse me, Mr. Kent.” 

This time an angry redhead pushed passed him. “Where is he?” 

“Mr. Harper, I’m aware that Mr. Queen does not require manners in his household, but in Wayne Manor, we follow rules of common curtesy,” Alfred retorted. 

The man took almost a full minute before backing down. “I’m sorry, Alfred. Will you please tell me where Dick is?” 

Alfred raised his eyebrows. “Come to the kitchen. I might as well only explain this once.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prayer is taken directly from the Anglican _Book of Common Prayer._
> 
> Did Alfred send Wally to England to go get Jason's favorite tea? Yes, yes he did. 
> 
> I love Alfred so much. (Also, I now kind of want to write a crack fic, where members of the Bat family use the power of hugs to convince Dick to stay in bed and heal. lol) 
> 
> I'm sorry this has taken so long to get to y'all. I spent the last week doing recovery work in Puerto Rico. I intended to get this chapter up before I left. Unfortunately, like Dick, I struggle with depression (they do say to write what you know), I had a bad episode before leaving, and I just couldn't get it done. I hope you will forgive me. 
> 
> A note on religious/spiritual beliefs:  
> I'm not sure how many people will find this as interesting as I did, but I wanted to double check that Alfred was indeed Anglican, he is. This then lead to a rabbit hole of looking up a bunch of different religious beliefs of characters. Personally, I think Marvel does a better job of sharing a character's religious beliefs, which I believe adds to the overall characterization. It's something I take into account as I write because spiritual views shape our responses to people. Anywho, I realized that while I did a ton of research on Bruce, I should have also looked up others because the way I've been writing certain characters has been slightly less than accurate. I'm sure many of you don't care, but here are the list of some of the actual cannon beliefs of characters. (If anyone wants to discuss these, drop me a line. I'm pretty interested in these things.)  
> Bruce Wayne: Lapsed Catholic  
> Alfred Pennyworth: Anglican  
> Dick Grayson: Christian - no denominational affiliation known. (I'll be honest. This one surprised me the most. Dick sleeps around a ton for someone who is supposed to be a Christian, but several writers stated that they always saw Dick as a Christian, and attribute it to why he was able to conquer his past in a way Bruce never could. This does make sense to me and fascinates me. In several comics, his room is filled with Christian CDs and his Bible is shown. As far as I could tell regarding Romani culture, it's most common for the Romani people to be either Catholic, Orthodox, or Muslim.)  
> Jason Todd: Atheist  
> Tim Drake: Jewish Catholic (Again. This one surprised me. I'm not 100% sure what it means to be Jewish Catholic, but at least one writer stated that they always thought of Tim as Jewish while writing him.)  
> Barbara Gordon: Not enough information, but possibly Buddhist.  
> Wally West: Speedforce? - It's not exactly a religion, but several sites refer to it as a spiritual entity. (Do with that what you will.)  
> I think a religious conversation would be super interesting between all of them, but if I ever do that it will be a different fic. 
> 
> Here's the background spirituality that I've assumed for the characters in this fic. Some have been addressed explicitly already. Some are implied, and some are just in the background as I write the characters. 
> 
> Bruce: Lapsed Catholic  
> Alfred: Anglican  
> Dick: Universalist (In my ignorance, I assumed this would be the most likely due to his background. I now realize that was a misjudgment, and I shouldn't have done that.)  
> Jason: Unsure, but more curious about spirituality and religion after his own death and resurrection.  
> Tim: He's pretty sure he's an atheist, but he hasn't done the work yet to disprove/prove the existence of God. If anything, he may eventually concede to deism.  
> Barbara: Progressive, liberal Christian  
> Wally: Former atheist heading towards agnosticism  
> Artemis: Hasn't considered religion/doesn't understand how this would affect her day to day life.


	21. Chapter 20: Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are three angry redheads, two worried brothers, an insightful reporter, and a Batdad. 
> 
> And Dick regrets a lot of things. But mostly he regrets pissing Alfred off.

The world was hazy. He blinked. Everything was too bright. He shut his eyes, preferring the darkness. A warm weight was on his hand. 

“Go back to sleep, Dick.” 

He surrendered to the darkness.

 

The next time he awoke was less pleasant. It took him a full minute to adjust to his surroundings. He couldn’t remember how he ended up in the bed, but he was in trouble. Three angry redheads glared down at him. 

He blinked. 

When in doubt, make a joke. “Have you been glaring at me all night? I think there are better ways to get a guy’s attention.” 

No one twitched. Not even Wally.

_Yeah, he was in trouble._

Well, he wasn’t going to be lectured by his friends while he was laying down. He moved to sit up, but his ribs and stomach flooded with pain. Right. Ribs. Stitches. 

_Alfred._

Dick hated being drugged. It always made him groggy and useless. 

“Stay still,” Babs said from his right. She adjusted the hospital bed, so Dick could sit up without injuring himself further. 

Wally was motionless at his left; an angry glare plastered onto his face. The speedster was never still. He was either moving so fast that Dick couldn’t see, or he was _worried._ Neither one boded well for the acrobat.

Roy stood directly in front of him. Arms held at his side. His face was impassive, which concerned the injured man. 

Babs was at his right. Her arms crossed, but her nostrils weren’t flaring. She was angry, but her concern was overriding her anger. 

Okay, there were three angry redheads. Now, if only he knew why. 

“What’s Roy doing here?” 

The archer didn’t move. “Wally called me.” 

Of course, Wally did. Wally had been so _helpful_ lately. 

“Okay,” Dick rubbed the back of his head. “Not that I’m not thrilled to see everyone, but does someone want to explain why everyone’s mad at me?” 

An animalistic growl left Roy’s throat. “I don’t know. How about the fact that you’re trying to get yourself killed?!” 

“I’m not,” Dick protested. Except maybe he was. The Romani was smart enough not to mention that. It would only make everyone worry more. He glared at the redhead at his left. “Wally’s overreacting.” 

There was a cry from Roy. The man threw his hands up in exasperation, but it was a touch on his right arm that drew his attention.

Barbara’s face was focused, like Dick was a puzzle she was trying to solve. He struggled not to fidget under her gaze. “You left your coms on last night.” 

The acrobat swallowed. No, he didn’t. There was no way he would have forgotten. 

Babs was still speaking with that strange calm voice. “You told Jason to come home with Bruce, not you. Can you tell us why?” 

Maybe because Bruce would never let him back in the Cave once he found out Dick had killed the Joker. Or maybe because he didn’t think he would survive the experience. Or maybe because he didn’t want Little Wing to see what he had become. 

“Were you going to let the Joker kill you?” Barbara’s voice was quiet.

Fury raced through Dick’s bones. He didn’t want to answer these questions. He didn’t want to think about this. “You missed,” Dick hissed. “I grabbed your arm last night. If I was so intent on killing myself like you seem to think, I would have let you miss.” 

“Then why didn’t you use your grapple?” Roy’s anger filled the room. “You didn’t need her to catch you.” 

Dick didn’t know. Didn’t want to think about this. Last night was a blur. A blur of desperation. Little Wing was alive, and he needed to come home.

“Where’s Jason?” The acrobat asked, trying to get out of bed. Wally gently pushed him back down. 

“He’s upstairs talking with Alfred and Tim.” 

Tim. Dick was an idiot. He brought the person who had shot Tim back to the cave. Had he traded one little brother for another? Could he not do anything right? 

“Hey,” Wally’s voice pierced his thoughts. “Hey, look at me.” Green eyes looked down at him in concern. “Both of them are okay. Well, as okay as they can be considering.” The man shrugged. “They’ll be down later.”

“Jason tried.” Dick can barely get the words out. “Jason tried to kill Tim.” 

“No,” Barbara said. “Jason could have killed Tim; he didn’t.”

“But he –”

“I know. Jason’s not himself right now, but he’s home.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s going to be okay, Dick. Everyone’s safe.” 

Roy snorted. “Everyone except you.” 

“I’m not going to kill myself!” Why would no one believe him? Batman’s original partner had promised never to kill. He refused to think about what he promised to do last night – what he did. Joker was dead. Dick killed him. Maybe killing himself wasn’t that far-fetched anymore.

“No?” The archer’s tone was skeptical. “You’re just going to allow someone else to do it for you!”

Shouts erupted around Dick. 

“Roy, calm down. This isn’t helping.” 

“Shove off, Wally!” 

“Both of you, knock it off!” 

Would it really matter either way? Dick Grayson was poisonous. He kept getting others killed. 

The Romani hadn’t realized he had spoken aloud until Roy had a fist full of his shirt, leaning into his space. He _hated_ being drugged.

“I’m going to say this once and only once. You are not poisonous. You are one of the best men I have ever met. If you continue to talk this way about one of my best friends, I’m going to make you regret it.” A pause. “Do you understand?” 

Stunned by the archer’s ferocity, Dick nodded. Roy released him. 

“Actually,” Wally broke the tense silence. “We made a list.” There was a blast of wind and then a note was in Dick’s hands. “It’s all the reasons we like you and think you're worth being friends with.” 

Dick stared at the list in front of him. 

_Dick Grayson is a loyal friend._ Ha. Loyal friends don’t get their best friends killed.

_Dick Grayson has a large heart._

Scanning throw the rest of the list of lies, he frowned when he got towards the end. 

“Wally, does Artemis know you think I have a cute butt?” 

The speedster sputtered beside him. 

Barbara rose one eyebrow in her patented ‘I know better than you’ look. “I told you he’d never believe I wrote that.” 

No. She wouldn’t. Dick had offered. Babs had said no. Told him he was too much of a dog. Dick didn’t blame her; Barbara Gordon deserved better. Someone who wasn’t poisonous. 

“Besides, its gotten too skinny.” 

Dick blinked. 

_Did she just? ___

__Wally snorted. “Are you admitting to looking at his butt?”_ _

__A blush crept up Barbara’s face._ _

__“What these two are trying to explain,” Roy cut in. “This is a list of your positive virtues. You are going to read it every day.”_ _

__The Romani looked down at the list and back up._ _

__“If you so much as insinuate that any aren’t true, I’ll – ”_ _

__Dick flinched._ _

__“What Roy means, Dick,” Wally continued. “As the three people who know you best, we made a list, and you don’t get to dispute them because your thought process hasn’t been the best lately.”_ _

__“My thought process is fine.”_ _

__Babs raised a very unimpressed eyebrow. She started ticking things off on her fingers. “You haven’t been eating, you went out to fight the Joker and Red Hood without Kevlar, left the safety of the cave while you were injured, left your coms on, didn’t call for backup. Hmmm, am I forgetting something?” Barbara raised a finger to her chin in fake concentration. “Your grand plan for getting Jason home was to kill the Joker.”_ _

__Tension fell on the room. Dick couldn’t be trusted. He killed. He was a murderer._ _

__Wally’s voice cut the atmosphere in the room. “Look, you want us to stop worrying about you. We want you to be okay. Just read the list daily, okay?”_ _

__“It’s not going to make a difference.” The acrobat’s voice was small._ _

__His best friend gave him a pleading look. “Then it shouldn’t matter either way.”_ _

__“Okay.” Dick stared at the paper. “I – I need to think about things. Can you leave me alone?”_ _

__The trio shared an awkward glance._ _

__He erupted, “I’m not going to kill myself! I don’t need to be on suicide watch!”_ _

__“You’re not on suicide watch, Dick. You’re on bed watch. Alfred doesn’t trust you to stay in the bed and heal,” Babs answered him._ _

__Groaning, Dick threw his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Remind me to never piss Alfred off again.”_ _

__“Not sure you’d listen,” Wally quipped. “I’ll take the rest of this watch.”_ _

__Roy and Barbara shuffled out of the room, leaving Dick alone with his best friend. Wally gave him a challenging look._ _

__“Alright, let’s hear it,” Wally said crossing his arms._ _

__Dick glared at the speedster. “Do you have to run off and tattle on me every time I do something you don’t like?”_ _

__Wally threw his hands up. “It’s called caring about you!”_ _

__“Yeah well, stop. I don’t need your version of caring.”_ _

__Wally snorted. “Next time, I’ll just leave you to bleed out in the Amazon.”_ _

__Dick threw his Batman glare at Wally._ _

__His best friend sped around the bed. “Do you have any idea how terrified I was?”_ _

__The crack in his voice forced Dick to listen._ _

__“You were wasting away, taking deadlier and deadlier missions, and whenever I tried to bring it up to anyone, it was the same thing: Dick can handle himself. Dick knows what he is doing. But you didn’t! You nearly died because I was the only one who knew you had a death wish!”_ _

__“Do you have any idea what that did to me?” Wally asked. “I stopped sleeping. I kept my phone on me. I barely passed my classes. Artemis and I fought all the time – so I’m sorry I damaged your precious pride, but I’m not doing that again.” Wally’s voice cracked again. “I can’t.”_ _

__“I’m fine, Wally,” the dark-haired man tried to reassure his friend._ _

__The speedster made a sound that was either a laugh or a cry._ _

__“You really believe that, don’t you?” Wally shook his head. “Dick, you almost killed the Joker last night and then, I found you on top of the Wayne Enterprise building, staring at the ground. Please tell me how that is fine.”_ _

__Dick didn’t answer, instead choosing to stare at his hands. He was a monster. It was finally starting to show. Maybe he should have jumped._ _

__There was a large exhale to his right. “Please don’t do this again. Your friends care for you. We want you to be okay.”_ _

__“What if I don’t know what that means anymore?”_ _

__The redhead reached down and gave Dick a hug. “Then, we’ll help remind you.”_ _

__Dick nodded._ _

__Less than an hour later, Roy replaced Wally._ _

__“You should know that Alfred gave me permission to shoot you if you try to leave that bed,” Roy greeted._ _

__“Of course, he did,” Dick said petulantly. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the mattress._ _

__Silence descended on the room. Roy made no attempt to break it. His jaw was clenched, and his fists were balled._ _

___Might as well get this over with._ _ _

__“What do you want, Roy?”_ _

__“For you to stop being a damn idiot!”_ _

__Dick wanted to fight. He truly did, but he just couldn’t muster up the energy anymore._ _

__“I’m sorry,” he said. He owed another redhead an apology as well._ _

__Tight muscles loosened, and the redhead finally sat down. He looked his friend over again._ _

__“I don’t get it, Dick,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re one of the best people I know. How can you not see that?”_ _

__The acrobat looked down at his hands, rather than meet Roy’s honest questioning._ _

__“You were the last to give up, you know?” At Dick’s questioning gaze, he ran a hand through his hair and continued, “When I was searching for.” There was a pause. “The other Roy. Everyone thought I was crazy, but you held out the longest. An entire year longer than Ollie.”_ _

__“I gave up too, and you were right. You brought Roy home,” Dick argued._ _

__“But that had more to do with Jason,” Roy protested. “You were dying, and I was too angry about my last friend abandoning me.” The archer stared at the floor. “I’m sorry, Dick.”_ _

__Dick’s face scrunched. “You have noth-”_ _

__Roy’s face shot up, an angry and guilty glint. “Yeah, I do.”_ _

__The Romani stopped arguing. He could see in the other man’s face that he wasn’t going to win this argument. Not like Dick had been winning any arguments lately. Maybe it was time to just stop arguing. He let out a breath. He was exhausted, so exhausted._ _

__“You won’t lose me,” Dick whispered._ _

__Roy gave him a halfhearted smirk. “Oh, I know. I’ve never seen Alfred like this. You’ll be lucky if you get out of that bed by the time you’re thirty.”_ _

__The raven-haired man scowled._ _

__The archer laughed._ _

__A knock on the doorframe of the opened door drew their attention._ _

___Uncle Clark._ _ _

__There was a mental list of people Dick Grayson was not looking forward to seeing right now. Clark Kent was high on this list. Not as high as Bruce but up there. Superman was noble, fierce, and protective. The Joker never would have died on his watch. Not to mention Clark Kent had an irritating way of being way too insightful._ _

__“Mind if I steal Dick for a minute?” Clark asked._ _

__Dick very much wanted Roy to say yes._ _

__Roy didn’t._ _

__“No,” Roy said, rising to his feet. “I should probably head home. I’ll be back in a few days.” The archer walked to the door. “And Dick, read the list,” he called over his shoulder, leaving Nightwing alone with Superman._ _

__Or more precisely Dick Grayson alone with Clark Kent._ _

__“Do you mind if I sit?”_ _

__Dick managed a short shake of his head, even though he very much minded._ _

__Clark sat in the small plastic chair. There was a manila folder on his lap. “How are you doing, Dick?”_ _

__“Fine.”_ _

__The reporter gave him the same look he gave Bruce when he was being difficult. As gentle as Uncle Clark always was with Dick, the boy was reminded that the Kyrptonian had nerves of steel and even got Batman to talk about feelings._ _

__“Bruce is still asleep,” Clark offered and added at Dick’s confused face. “Alfred drugged him as well. Something about father and son not understanding their bloody limits.”_ _

__Father and son. Bruce had adopted him. Dick had returned the gesture by breaking his father’s cardinal rule. He killed one dad, and now, he was a failure of the legacy for the other._ _

__“Why don’t you tell me what you are thinking about?”_ _

__Dick jerked up to find Clark studying him._ _

__He shrugged. “It’s not important.”_ _

__Clark leaned forward. “If it’s putting that expression on your face, I’d say it’s important.”_ _

__The talkative acrobat refused to say anything. Silence engulfed the room._ _

__Clark shifted in his chair and tried again. “Bruce loves you, Dick.” He held up a hand to forestall Dick’s protests. “He does. He’s not always the best at showing it, but I’ve never seen him as happy as he is with you boys.”_ _

__“Not anymore,” Dick mumbled._ _

__“What was that?” The Romani knew the Kryptonian heard him. He wasn’t going to repeat it._ _

__The reporter leaned back. “Why do you believe that’s changed?”_ _

__“I killed the Joker,” Dick whispered._ _

__“Funny,” the older man said. “I’ve heard this story from multiple sources and not one of them collaborates your story.” There was a challenge to his tone._ _

__“I was going to kill him.”_ _

__Clark raised one very unimpressed eyebrow. “Were you?”_ _

__Dick remembered the weight of the Joker, how holding him up shook his arms, the way he could feel his heart through that terrible purple jacket, the smell of sweat and cotton candy, the batarang squeezed in his hand. One thought circling through his head: Get Jason home._ _

__“I…I don’t know.”_ _

__“You’re not a killer, Dick,” the reporter stated._ _

__Except it was a lie. Dick killed so many. His parents. Jason. Wally. The Joker._ _

__“I think you need to start remembering who you are,” Clark continued. He handed the younger man the manila folder on his lap. “These are a list of articles I found relating to your activities in the last six months.”_ _

__Scattered newspaper clippings fell into Dick’s lap._ _

__“I think you need to start examining the evidence and not just basing your conclusions on your feelings.”_ _

__The acrobat pushed the papers back in the folder. He attempted to hand it back to the reporter. “I don’t want this.”_ _

__Clark made no move to accept it. Dick dropped it on his lap._ _

__“Okay, I’ll look at them.”_ _

__Satisfied, Clark nodded._ _

__A thought occurred to Dick. “Is this how you get Bruce to listen?”_ _

__A smirk formed on the Kryptonian’s face. “Nah, I usually just punch him until he’s too concussed to argue with me.”_ _

__Dick chortled. Then he remembered that it didn’t matter what Clark thought, Bruce would kick him out when he awoke. Clark gave him one of those insightful looks that always made him wonder if the Man of Steel could read minds._ _

__“Bruce isn’t going to throw you out.”_ _

__The Romani gave him a flat look._ _

__“He won’t,” he said with the full weight of Superman behind his words. “And even if he tries, we both know Alfred would never let him.” Uncle Clark clearly didn’t know Bruce already had. “But if you start to feel uncomfortable here, you always have a home in Metropolis.”_ _

__Dick yawned. “Thanks, Uncle Clark.”_ _

__“Are you tired?” Clark asked._ _

__“Not really, Alfred’s cocktails always make me groggy.”_ _

__Clark gave him an appraising look. “Well, since you’re confined to that bed, why don’t I read some of those stories to you.”_ _

__Seeing no way out, Dick nodded. Another yawn escaped. The acrobat fell asleep to the melodious sounds of Clark Kent reading about Nightwing’s heroics._ _

__

__He was running. Fear pumped through his heart. He had to get away. The floor dropped out from underneath him. His hands gripped the trapeze bar. He swung out._ _

__No._ _

__He was supposed to grip the bar with his knees._ _

__John Grayson’s hands reached out, but Dick couldn’t grab him without letting go._ _

__“You failed us, Dick.”_ _

__John’s face morphed into Mary’s as she fell._ _

__“My little Robin, I thought you loved us.”_ _

__Dick fell on to a roof._ _

__“Dickface doesn’t know how to love,” Jason croaked. He laid in a pool of his own blood. A crowbar gripped in his hands like a bouquet on a corpse._ _

__“Jason!” Dick rushed towards him, but his brother’s body disappeared._ _

__Wally’s voice surrounded him._ _

__“Not fast enough, Dick. Never fast enough to save us.”_ _

__He was back in the big top. The bodies of those he loved dead and beaten on the floor. The Joker’s maniacal laugh filled the tent._ _

__“But you’ve always saved me!” The Joker chortled. “Well, until you didn’t.” His laughter echoing around the room. “You should have told me you wanted to be me.”_ _

__“I don’t!”_ _

__“Maybe, you should look in the mirror.”_ _

__Dick was in a mirror maze. All around him was the Joker’s pasty face and green hair, but instead of the haunting green eyes and round face, there were high cheekbones and the eyes were Grayson blue._ _

__

__“NO!” Dick awoke with a gasp. The world around him was still shaking. No, not the world just the bed._ _

__Jason kicked the hospital cot again. Hard. “Bout time you woke up, Dickhead.”_ _

__“Jason! You’re alive!”_ _

__The man in question rolled his eyes. “Yes, we had are reunion last night. It was touching.”_ _

__Dick stared at his brother, trying to separate fact from fiction. “The Joker died?”_ _

__“Yes,” the younger man replied. “And before you start your woe-is-me speech, you didn’t kill him.”_ _

__Dick blinked. “I was going to,” he whispered._ _

__Jason either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him. His arms were crossed and there was something wrong with his eyes that Dick couldn’t place._ _

__“Why are you here?”_ _

__“Because God has a sense of humor,” he said deadpan._ _

__“No, why are you here in this room?”_ _

__“Because I’ve never seen Alfred this pissed. I didn’t know you had it in you, Goldie.” Jason smirked._ _

__Dick groaned, leaning back against the bed. “How long am I under house arrest?”_ _

__His brother shrugged. “No idea, but I was talking to the replacement.”_ _

__“Timmy didn’t –”_ _

__“Shut up!” Jason’s eyes flashed again. Dick couldn’t remember if his brother’s eyes were blue or green. “I was talking to the baby bird. He caught me up on some of the case files while I was gone. Want to hear my favorite one?”_ _

__Dick didn’t like where this was going._ _

__Jason’s tone turned vile. “Nightwing chose to infiltrate a compound located in the middle of the Amazon rainforest with nearly 250 guards alone. Injuries sustained: four bullet wounds, three stab wounds, a major concussion, a snake bite, various insect bites, and curare poison. Kid Flash, who had previously retired, found and extracted Nightwing. Shall I keep reading?”_ _

__“I know what happened, Jay. I was there.” Dick’s voice was quiet._ _

__“Really? Cuz it seemed like your brain left after I died.”_ _

__“I was grieving!”_ _

__“And you thought, hey! I’ve got a great idea. I’ll just join Jason in the afterlife.” The man kicked the bed again. “Idiot.”_ _

__Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve gotten this talk already.”_ _

__“Well, it didn’t take.” Jason glared._ _

__“I’m not in the Amazon, am I?”_ _

__“No, but you weigh even less than you did then!”_ _

__Dick groaned again. This was not how he wanted his reunion with Little Wing to go. “I’m eating. It was a temporary lapse in judgment.”_ _

__Jason snorted. “That sounds rehearsed.”_ _

__Dick waved his hand and closed his eyes. “Jason, you’re alive. Can we just focus on that?”_ _

__“Not while you’re trying to kill yourself.”_ _

__“Oh, for the love of God! I am not trying to kill myself!”_ _

__The two men glared at each other._ _

__“Master Jason, if you cannot refrain from elevating Master Richard’s heartrate, I’m afraid you’re visiting privileges will be revoked.” Neither had heard Alfred come in with a tray of food. “Jason, if you would please return upstairs, your family is waiting for you to have dinner.”_ _

__“Oh, goodie, this won’t be painfully awkward at all,” Jason grumbled but he dutifully exited the Cave._ _

__“I’m afraid you slept past breakfast and lunch, but I brought a substantial dinner.” The butler placed the tray across Dick’s lap._ _

__“I’ll eat all of it, Alfie.”_ _

__Alfred made a non-committal noise before situating himself in one of the far chairs in the room, stitching up Dick’s Nightwing costume._ _

__The acrobat took a bite of the pot roast in front of him. It was surprisingly delicious._ _

__“This is good, Alfred,” Dick said._ _

__The elderly man ignored him. Dick took a few more bites._ _

__“Are you just going to ignore me then?”_ _

__Alfred set the costume across his lap. The Romani instantly knew he faltered. The British man gave him a cold glare._ _

__“Seeing as you ignore everything that I say, I will save my words for those who will listen to me.”_ _

__“Alfie, I don’t ignore everything you say.”_ _

__The butler’s glare didn’t waver, but one eyebrow rose._ _

__“What did I tell you last night?”_ _

__Turning away from the glare, Dick mumbled, “That I was in no condition to leave the Cave, and I was likely to get myself killed.”_ _

__“What happened last night?”_ _

__Dick was sullen. “I left the Cave.”_ _

__“And?”_ _

__“And almost died.”_ _

__Alfred nodded and returned to his work. Since there was no point to trying to continue the conversation with the man, Dick went back to his meal._ _

__A short while later, Barbara Gordon appeared. Alfred gathered up the dishes and left. Dick looked after him, wondering how long his grandfather was going to stay angry with him._ _

__The redhead held up a chess board. “I figured we could play a game before I have to leave for the Watchtower.”_ _

__“Of course, you bring chess when I’m confined to bed and can’t grab something else,” Dick complained._ _

__Babs blew an errant hair out of her face and set up the board. “It’s hardly my fault you don’t have the patience for the game.”_ _

__“I’ll have you know I can beat everyone except you and Bruce in under ten moves.”_ _

__“And Tim, Alfred, and Jason,” she said with a smirk._ _

__Dick scrunched his face. “Jason hasn’t beaten me.”_ _

__“Jason hasn’t beaten you, yet,” Babs corrected. “Let’s face it. You may be a Boy Wonder, but you’re no Bobby Fischer.”_ _

__She gave him a teasing smile, and the man was struck by how beautiful it was._ _

__Dick moved one of his pieces. “So you’re not mad at me?”_ _

__“I don’t know what I am, Dick. But I don’t see how my anger is going to help anything,” she replied._ _

__He moved his bishop across the board. “Congratulations, by the way.”_ _

__Babs raised an eyebrow, moving her rook. “For what?”_ _

__The acrobat gave her a look._ _

__“Oh! It’s just temporary. Kaldur will come back before my fall midterms.”_ _

__“Still, congratulations. You earned it.” Unlike Dick who was only the leader because he had been Batman’s apprentice, and what a fine job he did._ _

__“I ordered some books for you,” Babs said, pulling him from his thoughts, and by the look on her face, she knew it. “I think they will help you.”_ _

__“What kind?”_ _

__“A few of my favorites,” she said. “I recommend starting with _Daring Greatly_. That one really changed my life.” _ _

__A soft smile graced his lips. “Thanks.”_ _

__“No problem,” she grinned back but it turned wicked. “Check.”_ _

__Dick turned back to the board. “What?”_ _

__Barbara elbowed him. “I thought you could multitask.”_ _

__The young man returned his attention to the board only to be beaten by the redhead three moves later._ _

__“Next time, we can play Clue,” Babs offered. She kissed him on his cheek. “I have to leave. Please try not to cause anymore trouble.”_ _

__Dick nodded. Babs waved good-bye as Tim entered the room. Tim took the chair Alfred had occupied earlier. His laptops rested across his knees. The teenager typed quickly along the keys._ _

__“What cha working on?” Dick asked._ _

__Tim didn’t look up. “Homework.”_ _

__“It’s summer, Timbo.”_ _

__“I downloaded the freshman syllabi early,” Tim replied, his voice flat._ _

__Something was wrong. Probably the fact that Dick had accidentally chosen Jason over the teenager in front of him._ _

__“Tim, I know Jason shot you,” he tried._ _

__“This isn’t about Jason,” Tim replied, resting his head on the edge of his screen._ _

__“What’s it about?”_ _

__Tim closed the laptop, but his directed his gaze towards the floor._ _

__“Do you know what the first thing you taught me was?”_ _

__Dick swallowed. He knew. It was the first thing Bruce had taught him._ _

__“We don’t kill,” the teenager continued. “You told me there was always another way.”_ _

__Tim’s voice sounded heartbroken. Dick was a complete and utter failure._ _

__“But then, then you.” Tim’s voice trailed off. He sniffed._ _

__Dick swallowed. He wanted nothing more than to scoop his baby brother up in his arms. The raven-haired man would need to tread carefully. “Then, I threatened to kill the Joker.”_ _

__Timmy nodded. The boy looked so small hunched in on himself._ _

__“I became Robin because I wanted to help people,” he said._ _

__“You do help people,” Dick argued._ _

__“I’m doing a lousy job if I can’t even help you,” the teen protested. There was a wet quality to his voice._ _

__“You’re not responsible for my decisions.” Tim didn’t look up. “Hey, Tim, look at me, please.”_ _

__The teenager did so reluctantly._ _

__“I’m going to be okay.”_ _

__For the first time, Dick realized, he meant it. He had to be okay. It was one thing to let his thoughts destroy him, but he wasn’t going to take his baby brother with him. “Come ‘ere,” Dick called._ _

__Tim hugged him and cried into his shirt. Dick held him close. He would do better. He had to do better. Wally and now Tim. People couldn’t pay for his mistakes._ _

__When Bruce came down, he discovered Tim fast asleep, curled up against his brother. Dick was lazily running his hand up his back to keep the nightmares away._ _

__“If you’re here to yell at me, can we raincheck? I don’t want to wake Tim.”_ _

__Bruce sat in the chair closest to the bed, resting his crutches beside the chair. “I’m not here to yell at you.”_ _

__Dick was suspicious. “Then, why are you here?”_ _

__Shaking his head, Bruce replied, “If you don’t know, then I’ve failed even more than I thought.”_ _

__There was a hopeless quality to Bruce’s voice that Dick couldn’t stand. He wanted to offer reassurances, but what proof could he give? Nightwing was Batman’s legacy. Nightwing had failed._ _

__They sat in silence. Dick knew his father figure was struggling with something. Bruce probably was trying to find the easiest way to know that his son wasn’t welcome anymore. The younger man had hoped Bruce would wait until Tim woke up and left._ _

__“Dick,” his father said, startling the Romani out of his thoughts. “I love you, son. That’s never going to change.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__Bruce grunted. “You heard me.”_ _

__“But, but I killed the Joker,” Dick protested._ _

__“You threatened to. I’m not sure even you know if you would have.” Bruce’s face hardened. “But I don’t want you on the streets until you’re sure it won’t happen again.”_ _

__“Okay.”_ _

__Bruce’s eyes searched his son for deceit. “What did you say?”_ _

__“You heard me.”_ _

__Bruce still studied him as he spoke. “You’re also benched until I know you want to come back alive.”_ _

__This one was harder, but he still nodded. “Yeah, okay.”_ _

__“I’ll admit that wasn’t how I expected this conversation to go,” his father said, relaxing in the chair._ _

__Dick laughed. “That makes two of us.”_ _

__Silence engulfed the room for a while, but this time, it was peaceful._ _

__He didn’t want to break it, but if he didn’t do it now, he never would._ _

__“Bruce?”_ _

__“Hmm.”_ _

__“I think I should go back to therapy.” He forced the words out._ _

__“I’ll make the appointment.” Bruce squeezed his hand. “Dick, I,” the older man stumbled._ _

__Dick squeezed back. “I know, Bruce. I know. You too.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I'm kinda nervous about posting this chapter. If you'll let me know what you thought of it, I'd really appreciate it. 
> 
> This chapter has a lot of personal information regarding my own recovery. I spent about five years dealing with self-hatred. Part of my own recovery involved writing lists of things that were good and true about myself, lists of lies vs. truth that I would read every day, learning to rely on more than one friend, etc. Also Daring Greatly by Brene Brown is a phenomenal book. I recommend everyone read it, especially if you deal with depression or shame. 
> 
> I enjoyed discussing religion/faith/spirituality and their role in comics with a few of you! I truly enjoy being able to have these conversations in a respectful way. Also, correction: a reviewer pointed out to me that Jason does mention God in a few comics. Feel free to make of that what you will. In this fic, he's definitely searching for answers.


	22. Chapter 21: Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which no one is okay and Tim learns to put his own oxygen mask on first.

After crying on Alfred (And that had been embarrassing. Timothy Jackson Drake had been taking care of himself since he was seven. He was not a child.), the boy laid on his bed staring at the ceiling with the lights off. A soft glow from the night sky illuminated the room, so that everything appeared grey or black. The room reminded him of his life. Black, dark, out of focus. 

Dick had threatened to kill the Joker tonight. It was just a ploy, right? It had to have been a ploy. Nightwing was good at lying. The best. He was just trying to get Jason home. He wouldn’t have killed the Joker, would he? 

_We don’t kill._

But it was Jason. Nightwing’s Little Wing. Dick’s first brother. Was there anything Dick wouldn’t do to bring his brother home? 

Does that mean Dick would kill for him one day? 

_Don’t be ridiculous, Tim. You’re not Jason._

Dick Grayson was capable of killing. Sure, Tim had always known that they engaged in near fatal activities. Accidents could happen, and Nightwing was a force to be reckoned with – but the thought that Dick Grayson could intentionally kill someone. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. 

Would he? 

Tim rolled over, careful of his injured shoulder, to stare out the window. 

It was a trick. It had to be a trick. 

If it was a trick, then why didn’t Nightwing save himself and the Joker. Batman’s original protégé could have. 

Dick let the Joker fall. 

Was that murder? Involuntary manslaughter? Self-defense? 

Or was it just an accident in a horrendous plan? 

_This was your fault._

He wanted to argue with the voice, but he couldn’t fault its logic. Tim saw Nightwing sneak out of the Batcave. He could have stopped it, reminded Dick that he had promised to heal, grabbed Alfred, anything. 

Instead Robin watched Nightwing speed toward Gotham and almost commit a murder. He was an accessory to attempted murder.

Maybe. 

Nightwing hadn’t left the Batcave with the intention of murder. He had just wanted Jason back. Dick had been willing to do whatever it took to bring Jason home. 

_Whatever it took._

Nightwing _hadn’t_ killed the Joker. Tim knew that, but he had agreed to it in exchange for Jason coming home. 

Frustrated he couldn’t move to the other side without blinding pain, Tim rolled onto his back to face his ceiling again. It offered no answers. 

If Dick was willing to kill the Joker and Jason had killed, did that mean Robin was cursed? Should he just hang up the cape before Tim became a killer? 

The noise of two sets of footsteps in the hall halted the teen’s thought process. One was the familiar steady gait of Alfred, and the other was heavier. 

_Jason._

For a brief moment, Tim’s heart stopped, and a thousand thoughts imploded inside his brain. Jason shot him two days ago. The teen hadn’t slept since. There was no point. He woke up to the sound of the gunshot every time he tried. 

Tim didn’t blame Jason. After the second Robin had shot the newest Robin, he had spent his time researching the effects of the Lazarus Pit. He knew the second Robin never would have shot him if it weren’t for the Lazarus Pit madness. _Robin – Jason was a hero._

The knowledge didn’t stop his heart from beating faster and his mind to blank because the man who shot him was in the hallway. 

By the time the newest Robin got his mind under control, Alfred was gone, and Jason was settled in another guest room. 

Tim knew there was no point in attempting to sleep tonight. Despite his ever-present exhaustion, he was wired, jittery, _afraid._

It was post-traumatic stress disorder. It was normal, another part of the life he signed up for, but he had never seen Batman unable to sleep because of a nightmare. Batman had faced worse injuries than a bullet wound and been unaffected.

Annoyed with himself, the teenager rolled back onto his uninjured arm. 

There was a scream and a loud thump from the room across the hall. 

Before Tim could even process if this was a good idea or not, the third Robin ran across the hall and threw open the door looking for signs of trouble.

A loud curse brought the young detective’s focus to the ground. 

“Who are you?” Jason growled at him, daring the boy to comment on the fact that he was currently tied up in sheets on the floor.

Tim swallowed. “I’m Tim.” 

The older teen knocked the sheets aside and stood up, studying the younger boy. “You’re the replacement.” 

Well, Tim supposed that was an accurate description. He nodded. 

Jason’s eyes flashed. “And what? You came in here to pay me back for the gunshot?” 

“No!” Tim shook his head furiously. “I thought. I just thought. I was trying to help.” 

“Yeah, well piss off!” 

The young detective stared at the older teenager. Sweat glistened off his bare chest, his breathing was heavy, his pupils were blown wide in fear. 

Tim didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to leave Jason alone. But his brain refused to provide an acceptable reason for staying, so he shifted his feet in the doorway. 

Jason groaned and rubbed a hand down his face. “Fine, whatever. Stay there for all I care.” 

The older man began to make the bed that he had tumbled out of.

“You can have it back, you know?” 

“What back?” Jason said as he puled the blanket up. 

“Robin.” 

Jason barked a laugh. “Believe me, kid. The last thing I want is to be Batman’s partner again.” 

“What happened to you?” 

Jason stiffened, and Tim wished he had some brain to mouth filter for his curiosity. 

“Do you have a death wish, Replacement?” The voice was quiet, low. He should abort right now. 

“No, that’s Dick,” he said and turned to leave. 

Except the motion was halted by a strong grip on his pajamas, and the boy was shoved roughly into the wall. Tim cried out when his right shoulder hit the wall. Green eyes bore into him. 

“What do you know?” 

_Yes, Tim, this was a fabulous plan. Rush into the room of the man, who recently tried to kill you and was suffering from Pit Madness while your brain is too tired to have a filter. What could possibly go wrong?_

“Dick’s not okay.” 

Jason snorted. “Any idiot with eyes can see that.” His grip tightened on Tim’s shoulders. “What do you know?”

“He’s passively suicidal.” 

Jason dropped Tim and reared back to punch. Tim flinched, but the blow landed on the wall next to his head. The older teen used several words that Alfred would not approve of before he gathered his composure. 

“What did Bruce do?” The man said through clenched teeth. 

Tim’s eyes blew wide. Pieces clicked into place. Jason’s anger. The plan with the Joker. Jason hadn’t come home.

“You don’t know, do you?” 

“Know what?” 

“Jason,” Tim stated slowly. He didn’t want to anger the volatile man again. “What do you think happened after you died?” 

“Nothing!” The man roared. “The Joker killed me, and then Bruce and Dick pretended nothing happened and got a replacement Robin.” His eyes flashed again, and Tim struggled to remain calm. 

“That’s not. That’s not what happened. Batman put Joker in a full body cast for six months. He went off the rails. People started asking for his arrest. _The Gotham Gazette_ ran articles about vigilante brutality.” 

“So Bruce beat up a few extra people. Whoop-dee-f-ing-do.” Jason sneered. “He still replaced me, and none of that explained what happened to Dick!”

“You!” Tim shocked himself with how loud his yell was. His hands curled into fists of their own. “Dick adored you. He loved having a younger brother. Then you died. What the hell do you think happened?” 

There was the smallest of flinches from Jason, but he recovered quickly and towered menacingly over the smaller teen. “Well, he got over it and found himself a new little brother.” 

“Dick didn’t even want me!” Tim cried. “Neither did Bruce!” 

Jason squeezed Tim’s injured shoulder. Tim bit back several curses and struggled to breathe. 

“You’re going to explain that statement, and if you’re lying to me.” Jason let the threat hang in the air between them. The smaller boy nodded. 

“After you passed,” Tim began, speaking through clenched teeth. “Dick kept taking risker and risker missions until he succeeded in almost dying.” He stopped to gather air into his lungs. The room was spinning. Jason pressed harder in to the bullet wound. “Bruce was a mess. I became Robin because they needed one.”  
Jason’s eyes flashed a dangerous green. 

“I want all of the case and mission files since my death.” 

The younger boy nodded. Jason threw him towards the door, and Tim landed painfully on his hands. The jolt caused his shoulder to scream in pain. 

“Now get out.” 

Tim got out.

 

After another night of pretending to sleep, Tim grabbed coffee from the kitchen and headed towards the dining room.

Tim froze. 

Clark Kent and Jason Todd sat at the dining room table. Both men turned when Tim entered. Clark offered him a smile.

“Um, where’s Alfred?” Tim asked. 

“He’s taking breakfast to Dick’s trio of babysitters,” Jason replied. 

The young boy nodded and pulled a flash drive out of his pocket. “This is what you asked for.” 

Jason grunted. Clark watched the exchange but didn’t comment on it. 

“Good morning, Tim. I wanted to ask you a few questions about last night,” the Kryptonian greeted. 

Tim nodded. Jason got up and left, clenching the flash drive. Batman’s newest protégé explained as much as he could about what he heard on the coms the preceding night. 

When he finished his tale, he looked up at Superman. “Do you think he was going to do it?” 

“No,” Clark assured him. “I don’t think he could have Tim.” 

The young detective wanted to believe him, but Superman lived in a world full of hope. He wouldn’t last a day in Gotham. Still, Tim nodded and excused himself. 

 

The newest Robin spent the rest of his morning researching Pit Madness and analyzing the chemical equation of the liquid from the Lazarus Pit. He might be able to create an antidote or at least a blocker to prevent the worst of the symptoms, such as Jason’s new deadly temper. 

Alfred called him for lunch. Saving his work, Tim closed his laptop and headed for the dining room. 

Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent were currently engaged in a staring contest in the room. Neither men had touched their food, and it felt slightly surreal to the teenager that Batman and Superman could look almost identical to their counterparts without their costumes. 

“Ah, Master Timothy, I’m grateful that you are able to join us.” 

Bruce shifted his gaze from his friend and turned to gaze at the new arrival. Bruce’s eyes narrowed. 

“You’ve bleed through your stitches.” 

Tim hadn’t noticed that his little tussle with Jason ripped his stitches. 

“I fell getting out of bed this morning,” Tim lied. 

Bruce’s eyes narrowed further. A gloved hand rested on Tim’s uninjured shoulder. “I shall take care of Master Timothy.” 

Tim allowed the butler to lead him out of the room, and the two men resumed their staring contest. 

After Alfred finished, he led Tim to the kitchen, where Barbara Gordon was fixing herself a sandwich. 

“Ms. Gordon, I would have been happy to have made you a sandwich if you would have asked.”

Barbara smiled. “I know Alfred, but Wally’s here, and I know how much he eats.” 

The butler pulled out a tray of sandwiches from the fridge. “I am aware. Is he still down with Richard?” 

At the mention of Dick, Barbara’s smile fell. “Yeah,” she said. 

“Is Master Richard still asleep?” 

Barbara nodded, and Alfred left with the tray. 

The woman turned towards Tim and asked, “What’s the situation up here?” 

“Jason disappeared after breakfast. I have reason to believe he’s studying the mission files. Bruce and Clark are...” Tim paused. “…talking.” 

Babs nodded in consideration. “That’s good. Jason won’t be happy about the Amazon. Any read on Bruce? How’s he taking the Joker’s death?”

“He hasn’t said two sentences to me.” 

“Not good then.” The redhead stared off into space. “It’s frustrating. Both of them would have given their lives to save that _bastard._ And now that he’s dead…” She trailed off. “I don’t know if they’ll survive this.” She blinked and turned her gaze back to the other teen. “I’m sorry, Tim. I shouldn’t unload on you. How are you doing?”

Tim shrugged with one arm. “Fine, I guess.” 

“No.” The female redhead glared at him. “I hate that word.” She dropped her sandwich. “There is nothing fine about this.” 

Tim was silent for a long moment. “Would Dick have killed the Joker?”

Barbara sighed. “Depends on who you ask. I honestly don’t know Tim, but I’m grateful it didn’t come to that.” 

Tim nodded. Babs pushed half her sandwich over to Tim. “Keep your strength up, Tim. We’ll get through this.” 

The two ate in silence. When Barbara finished, she looked at Tim. “I’m going to find Jason. If you can help me run interference between Wally and him, I’d appreciate it.” At the male’s questioning glance, she added, “They’ve never gotten along. The last thing Dick needs is those two to start bickering.” 

 

Several hours later, Tim threw his notebook against the wall. He was getting nowhere. 

“I understand the temptation, Master Timothy, but do try not to damage the manor in your frustration.” 

Tim felt shame-faced. He hadn’t even heard Alfred come in. Some Robin he was. 

“Dinner is ready.” 

Bruce, Wally, and Barbara were already seated at the table. No one was speaking. Tim sat between Wally and Bruce. The silence in the room was oppressive and awkward. Why had Alfred insisted on this? 

“So,” Jason drawled from the doorway. “Are we just going to pretend to be a happy family now?” 

Barbara’s mouth curved into a slight smile. Bruce stared at Jason like he was a ghost. Wally ignored him completely. Jason took a seat on the same side as Barbara, but he left several settings between him and everyone else. 

“How was your day, Jason?” Bruce asked. His face looked so pained and uncomfortable. Tim wished Dick was here to make a joke. 

Jason glared. “I didn’t murder anyone.”

Bruce’s forced his face into a neutral expression. “I know, Jaylad.” 

Jason’s grip on his knife tightened. “Don’t call me that.” 

The older man sighed. 

“Wow! This food is amazing!” Wally cut in. “I always love eating Alfred’s cooking.” 

Tim barely refrained from dropping his head into his hands. This was a terrible idea. Was Alfred trying to punish them all? 

“You could eat straight out of a dumpster and call it gourmet, Kid Trash.” 

“At least, I’ve never had to.” 

Jason threw his knife. It sailed through the air through where the male redhead’s head had been and landed in the wall. Wally sped over and knocked Jason over. Both men grappled on the floor. 

“Enough!” Bruce bellowed. 

The speedster vibrated out of the other man’s hold and put the table between them. He looked sick. 

“Wallace, I expect you to engage in a manner benefitting your uncle’s mantle. If you cannot do so, you need to return it. Am I clear?” Bruce’s tone was deadly. 

The redhead swallowed and nodded. 

“Good. And Jason,” the older man faltered. “Jason, just don’t.” 

“What Bruce? Afraid if you yell at me, I’ll get all murdery again?” 

Bruce stood up, grabbed his crutches, and left the room without another word. 

“I’m going for a run,” Wally announced before a gust of wind replaced his presence. 

“LW,” Barbara started. “Bruce loves you. You know this.” 

“Sure, Sherlock,” Jason replied. “And cows fly.” 

He stood up to leave. 

“Don’t leave.” 

Jason dropped his shoulders. “I’m not leaving the manor, Barbie. If I do, Dick’s just going to try and get himself killed again. I just need some air.” 

After the second Robin left the room, Barbara dropped her head in uninjured hand. “That could have gone better.” 

 

Tim did not look forward to his turn watching Dick. He pulled out his laptop and sat in one of the chairs further away from Dick’s bed. Predictably, the injured man didn’t allow his brother to go unnoticed. 

“What cha working on?” 

Tim didn’t look up. “Homework.” 

“It’s summer, Timbo.” 

“I downloaded the freshman syllabi early,” Tim replied, his voice flat. 

Robin hoped Nightwing would use some of his detective skills to deduce that Tim really didn’t want to talk. 

“Tim, I know Jason shot you,” he tried. 

It was foolish to think Dick would allow for silence. He rested his head on his screen. “This isn’t about Jason.” 

“What’s it about?” 

Tim closed the laptop. He wouldn’t get work done here. He might as well get some answers.

“Do you know what the first thing you taught me was?” 

Dick swallowed. 

“We don’t kill,” the teenager continued. “You told me there was always another way.” Tim swallowed. “But then, then you.” Tim’s voice trailed off, focusing on not crying again. 

“Then, I threatened to kill the Joker.” 

Tim nodded but refused to look up. 

“I became Robin because I wanted to help people,” he said. But he couldn’t help anyone.

“You do help people,” Dick argued. 

Not even his brother. “I’m doing a lousy job if I can’t even help you.”

“You’re not responsible for my decisions.” Tim didn’t look up. “Hey, Tim, look at me, please.” 

The teenager did so reluctantly. 

“I’m going to be okay.” 

The younger teenager didn’t believe him, not this time. Not with all of the evidence proving Dick a liar. He tried to bite back his tears, but he couldn’t. Dick wrapped his arms around him, and Tim wished he had the strength to push his brother away. Instead, he cried himself to sleep. 

Tim woke up with the weight of a body next to his back. He was curled, almost snuggled into someone’s side. He remained still, trying to asses his surroundings. Then he heard Dick’s voice. 

“…need it too, Little Wing.” 

“I’m not the one who keeps trying to die,” Jason responded. 

“No, you’re the one who died.” Dick’s voice sounded seconds away from tears. 

The whole bed shook. “Hey! No! I’m alive, asshole.” 

The injured man shifted his weight. “I’ll make you a deal, Little Wing. I’ll go to counseling, if you do.” There was something off in the quality of his voice. 

Jason must have noticed as well because his tone turned suspicious. “What’s the catch?” 

“No catch.” Tim could hear the grin in Dick’s voice. “I go, you go.” 

“Fine,” the second Robin bit out. “But if you stop, I’ll stop.” 

“It’s a deal.” Dick nudged him. “I know you’re awake Timmy. You’re our witness.” 

Tim climbed out of the bed. Dick was grinning down at him, and Jason was glaring at him. 

“You can go if you want, Jason. Tim can be on guard duty.” 

“Right.” Jason rolled his eyes. “I know how your big brother charms work, Dickhead. One minute, he’s guarding you. The next minute, you two are in Tokyo.” 

“Are you calling me charming?” 

Jason snorted. 

“No,” Tim interrupted their banter. “There’s nothing he could do.”

Dick stared at him, confused. Jason gave an appraising look. 

“The last time I let him leave the cave he almost committed murder.” 

The oldest brother’s face turned pain. 

“You’ve been brainwashed by Batman, Baby Bird.” Jason snorted.

“Murder is wrong,” Tim argued. 

Jason scoffed. “Killing isn’t always murder, Replacement. Sometimes it’s justice.” 

“And you have the right to be judge, jury, and executioner?” 

“Someone needs to!” 

“Stop!” Dick interrupted. He looked awful. “If you are going to fight, do it somewhere else.” 

Tim felt guilty. Jason turned and left the room without another word. 

There was silence for a moment until the elder teenager broke it. 

“I’m sorry, Tim,” Dick said. 

“For what?” 

“I let you down.”

Tim didn’t deny it. Silence descended on the pair. 

“Would you have killed the Joker for me?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Tim regretted them. 

“Timmy, I”

“No, don’t answer. I don’t wanna know.” 

He stood up and left the room. “I’ll go get Alfred. Please just stay there while I get him.” 

Tim was gone before Dick could respond. 

 

When Tim returned to his room, he received a text from Barbara. 

_I rescheduled your appointment with Dinah. Tomorrow at 1. Don’t make me do it again._

Tim had honestly completely forgotten about the mandatory counseling sessions with Black Canary after the end of the invasion. Talking to someone outside of this mess didn’t sound like a terrible idea. He sent a text back.

_I’ll be there._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably my least favorite chapter because everyone is just a mess, and no is behaving logically, but at least it reveals my not so secret reason for writing this fic: get the Bat Boys into therapy. Brucie Boy, I'm coming for you next!
> 
> And yes, Dick did manipulate Jason into agreeing to go to counseling after he already had an appointment. You'll never convince me Dick isn't the brother dragging them all into trouble but never getting blamed for it.


	23. Chapter 22: Artemis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the girls address their emotion and Artemis discovers who she wants to be.

Tigress carried two black coffees towards the primary station Young Justice used for their missions. The Watchtower was strangely quiet. One of the Lanterns had monitor duty in the central room, and a few other heroes Artemis didn’t recognize were eating in the dining hall. Other than that, the place was empty. 

Barbara Gordon sat engulfed with multiple computers, even one-handed she typed quickly. Her Batgirl mask laid on the table next to her. 

“I brought coffee,” she announced. 

The redhead whipped around. Her red-rimmed eyes betrayed the fact that she had recently been crying. 

“I thought you were on rest from your last mission?” Barbara asked, confused. 

Tigress offered the other woman a coffee, which she took with a nod. She removed her mask and laid it beside Batgirl’s. She pushed one of the laptops aside and sat on the desk, crossing her legs. 

“Well, my fiancé has decided to spend all his free time in Gotham…” She shrugged. “I decided to be useful.” 

Barbara ran her thumb and index finger underneath her eyes. 

“Come on, Barbie. Let’s hear it.”

The genius turned back to the computers. “Until recently, I thought Smash started in Bludhaven. It appears there were plans to bring the drug to Gotham, but since Hood destabilized the drug trade, they cleared out. At least that’s what this chemist wants me to believe.” She gestured to a few screens to her left. “But highly addictive and fatal drugs have been popping up for short periods of time in small towns across the US. The drug always goes by a different name, but I’m certain it’s the same drug.” 

“Interesting,” Artemis remarked. Drugs had always been a part of life. She failed to see how a new drug in the rural Midwest was pertinent, compared to everything else Gotham and her friend was dealing with. “But not what I meant.”

Batgirl ignored her comment. “The formula for the drug is incredibly difficult to pin down because it dissolves under most lab conditions. Whoever this chemist is, she’s a genius. She created a drug that’s highly addictive, impossible to reproduce, and she started in towns. She’s covered her tracks well. That’s why she’s been so hard to locate. She’s stayed off the hero radar until Bludhaven.” 

Despite knowing she shouldn’t get sucked into this distraction, Artemis peered at the screens, intrigued. “Why Bludhaven?” 

“Because Bludhaven is a crime-infested wasteland, and the hero presence there has never been permanent.” 

“Nightwing still patrolled the ‘Haven during the invasion,” Artemis replied.

“I know,” Barbara snapped. She schooled her expression into something more neutral before she continued. “He patrolled, but he didn’t investigate. Nightwing kept as much crime off the street as possible, but he didn’t have the capacity to try and solve a drug case on top of everything else.” 

Artemis nodded. She had heard there had been an Arkham breakout while she was undercover. It was a lot for the Bat clan to deal with. “And whoever this chemist is, they assumed that Nightwing was incompetent and grew cocky.”

“Exactly,” Barbara beamed. 

“Okay, but I thought we destroyed the supply line for the drug into Gotham and Bludhaven,” Tigress replied. 

“It wasn’t all of it, and until we find her, this drug will keep showing up.” 

Artemis leaned over to look closer at the computers. “How do you know it’s a her?” 

Barbara took a sip of her coffee. “I don’t. I don’t even know if it’s one person or multiple people. I’m just tired of assuming someone is male.” 

Artemis rolled her eyes. 

“We need to find her or _him_ ,” Batgirl corrected. “The death toll seems small in isolation, but when you start adding the deaths across towns, it’s high.” 

“How many people?” 

“2,456.”

The blonde started. “That’s a lot of people.” 

“Yes, which is why I’ve made this Young Justice’s top priority.” 

Tigress nodded. “I’m available.” 

“Actually,” the female Bat said. “I had another favor I wanted to ask you.” 

Crossing her arms, the archer raised an eyebrow. She didn’t like the other woman’s tone. 

“We need someone to patrol Gotham.” 

Artemis choked on her spit. _That_ was not something she had ever expected to her. 

“Are you forgetting about the rather large rodent with a possessive streak?” 

Barbara stood her ground. “No, but Batman’s injured.” 

Tigress raised both eyebrows. She knew about Dick, Tim, and Barbara, but she hadn’t realized their mentor was down as well. “You’re telling me the entire Bat family is down.” 

“Hey! Not so loud,” Batgirl hissed. “It’s temporary. I should be back on the streets in a week.” 

Artemis stood up and started pacing the room. “Did Batman approve this?” 

“Not yet, but he will.” 

The blonde groaned. “No, I’m not undermining Batman. The last time ‘Wing talked me into that I was almost kicked off the team.” 

“Fine,” the redhead ground out, teeth clenched. “I’ll get his permission.” 

The archer nodded. “Can we talk about what’s gotten you so riled up now?” 

“I’m not riled up,” The redhead snapped. 

Tigress gave Barbie her full incredulous stare. 

Resting her forehead on her hand, Barbara replied, “It’s...a lot of things.” 

“No kidding.” Artemis snorted. “Is the Joker really dead?” 

“Yes, Batman and I confirmed it before calling it in.” 

Recent news articles and blogposts across multiple social media platforms had circulated with questions regarding the Joker’s death, if it was real or faked, and if the person responsible should be celebrated as a hero or brought in for murder. As far as the blonde could tell, most Gothamites leaned towards celebrating. There was not a man, woman, or child who had not been affected by the Joker’s schemes over the years. No one mourned the death of that clown. 

Even Artemis, who disagreed with the death penalty, couldn’t bring herself to grieve the clown’s death, but she did regret how it had happened.   
“What’s your dad think?” She asked her friend. 

The redhead moved an errant lock of hair out of her face and frowned. “We’ve barely had time for one phone call. His office is swamped. It’s an election year, so half of the city officials are pressuring him to not look too closely. No one wants to be known for putting the Joker’s killer behind bars.” 

“And your dad is ignoring them all.” 

“Of course, he is. Dad’s always been a believer in justice and the system. The problem is that all the witnesses were vigilantes, and none of us will be giving statements. There’s nothing at the crime scene that can prove he was pushed, but there’s enough to suggest that there was a conspiracy to commit murder,” Barbara replied while rubbing her hands in circles around her temples. 

“Wasn’t there?” Artemis had eventually gotten the story from Wally through bursts of uncontrolled emotion disguised as runs and complaints about Dick’s original younger brother. Jason had planned to get someone to kill the Joker, and Nightwing had been willing. But that was a trick. It had to have been. The archer trusted the acrobat’s moral compass. Dick Grayson wouldn’t murder someone. He would, however, lie to achieve his ends. 

“Yes,” Barbara growled, turning her face full of fury towards her friend. “But he was Pit Mad. I’ll be damned if I let Jason take the fall for this.” 

“Isn’t that for the courts to decide?” The archer did her best to keep her tone neutral, but ignoring the justice system was dangerous ground for vigilantes, who already played loose and fast with the law. It was a very slippery slope. 

“Usually, but which court would be able to handle an insanity plea based on death and resurrection via Lazarus Pit. 7.28% of Gotham’s population still doesn’t believe Batman exists, and there have been _photographs_ ,” the redhead growled. “I will not fail Jason again.” 

“Sounds more like he failed you.”

Barbara turned on her fast and hard. “Don’t.” Her voice was ice. “Don’t.” She turned back to her computers. “If you are here to bad mouth Jason, you can leave.” 

Artemis dropped the subject. She wasn’t here to pick a fight about Jason Todd, whom she had never actually meant. Although, if her big-hearted buffoon didn’t like the man, then Artemis highly doubted he was worth half as much as Dick and Barbara believed him to be. 

“How’s Dick?” 

The blonde had a fairly good read on Dick because Wally kept her updated. The only reason she hadn’t visited was because she knew her friend was overwhelmed. Plus, none of the Bats enjoyed others seeing their weaknesses. Artemis would wait until the man had healed somewhat before barging in again. Besides, Wally and Barbara needed someone outside of the whole mess to be there for them. She had learned that the hard way the first time around. 

Barbara’s fingers stilled at the question. “He’s…recovering.”

Artemis ignored the lie. She wasn’t really asking about Dick. “And how are you?” 

The genius returned to her work. 

“I’m keeping busy,” she replied. 

The archer barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Bats. She started giving her friend’s uninjured shoulder a massage. Barbara always carried too much tension in her shoulders. 

“It’s not easy when someone you care about goes through a hard time,” she said, keeping her voice neutral. 

The redhead took a deep breath and leaned into the massage. Artemis pressed harder into taut muscles. 

“Half the time I don’t now if I want to kiss him or kill him,” she admitted. 

The blonde’s mouth dropped open. Her eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry. What?”

Leaning forward away from her friend’s fingers, Barbara dropped her forehead into her arms. “It was Wally and his stupid list.” 

Artemis laughed. “He has that affect on people.” 

“All I know is Wally had this grand plan to write down every good thing about Dick Grayson; it was ridiculously easy to think of things, and now my brain won’t stop thinking about him,” Barbara complained. “I have an eidetic memory, and now my brain won’t stop supplying me with images of his stupid grin.” 

The archer snorted. “Leave it to you to make a crush sound like the end of the world.” 

“I have other things I need to be focusing on,” Barbara replied. 

Pulling her friend back so she could massage her shoulders, Artemis said, “Literally everyone thinks you and Dick are a perfect match. Admitting that you like him isn’t going to kill anyone.” 

“I’d like to wring his neck,” Barbara groaned. 

“Yes, well.” Artemis shrugged. “That’s love.” 

“I’m not in love with Dick,” Barbara disagreed. “I have an unfortunate and ill-timed crush.” 

The blonde didn’t push the statement. Everyone knew Barbara Gordon and Dick Grayson loved each other, except Barbara Gordon and Dick Grayson. She had little room to judge. Her fifteen-year-old self couldn’t stand Wally. 

“It must hurt to see your crush,” Artemis pressed harder and caused Barbara to let out a groan on the word crush. It never hurt to push a point. “struggling with depression.” 

In typical Barbara fashion, she ignored the jab. “I don’t understand how he can’t see what everyone else sees. He has the biggest heart. He’s incredibly skilled. He always makes time for new members.” 

Behind her friend, Artemis grinned as her friend listed the many qualities of Dick. It was about time the genius realized this. Wally would be thrilled. 

“He’s not bad to look at,” she cut in. 

Blushing, Barbara mumbled something Artemis didn’t catch. Artemis spun the chair around and faced her friend. 

“You’re allowed to have some happiness in the midst of all this stress. We don’t need another brooding Batman,” she told the other woman. 

“I’m not going to become Bruce,” Barbara vowed. “But this is hardly the time to pursue a relationship with Dick.” 

“Then don’t pursue a relationship. My point is, genius, that you can indulge in a little happiness.” 

Scrunching her face, the redhead replied, “It’s strange to here you talk about indulging in happiness.” 

The other woman grinned. “Well, I’m marrying the king of indulging in happiness. It was bound to rub off eventually.” 

Barbara laughed. “I’ll think about what you said. But for now, I’d really like to make some more headway with this chemist before I have to return home and pretend my dad doesn’t know I’m Batgirl.” 

“Need any help?” 

“I’d actually prefer to be alone for a while.” 

Artemis nodded and grabbed her Tigress mask. She was unready to return home, so she headed to one of the practice rooms to work off her own stress. Setting the computer to a level 7 training simulation, she lost herself in the familiarity of physical combat. Nothing settled her nerves and defeated her stress levels more than a solid physical workout, but even throughout the workout her mind would not settle. 

She wasn’t worried about Dick, not in the way everyone else was. She trusted the man. It was innate. There were certain things Artemis knew. She loved Wally West. The feel of an arrow notched in a bow. Dick Grayson was reliable. He would recover, simply because Dick wouldn’t let his friends suffer because of him. Maybe that wasn’t healthy, but Artemis was hardly one to judge another’s mental health. 

No, what nagged at her mind as she spun around the training room was the criminal justice system. It was flawed. She had known that from an early age. One did not grow up with Sportsmaster and Cheshire and not realize the justice system had gaping holes in it, but still. How did one leave a life of crime without facing years of punishment? What motivation did that leave for change?

Artemis was not an idiot. She knew her sister should serve serval life sentences, but she also knew her sister was reforming. The hero community had politely turned a blind-eye to Jade’s past crimes out of respect for Artemis and Roy, but Jade would never truly be free. How long should her sister pay for a lifestyle that was forced onto her? 

Why did _Jason_ get the second chance Jade was denied? Swallowing the bitterness that rose at the thought, Artemis moved on. She wouldn’t judge a kid she had never met. 

The criminal justice system needed to be reformed. The Justice League needed a way to establish _justice_ when civilians wouldn’t understand the complexities behind a case. Artemis needed to understand the current law better. She didn’t know enough to even know how to begin. 

_Oh, damn._ She thought as the archer shot down the last moving target. It really was a pain when Wally knew her better than she knew herself. She’d never hear the end of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and/or given kudos. I can hardly believe this fic has reached over 500 kudos. I'm truly humbled. I'm so glad many of you are enjoying this story. 
> 
> Confession. I didn't start this fic with the intention of writing Dick/Babs at all. I'm not much of a romance writer, and I adore friendship. I love writing about the way friendships change, challenge, and support people. BUT two things happened. The characters had a mind of their own, and I slowly fell in love with Barbara Gordon through writing this fic, and I was always in love with Dick, so...yeah. Anyway, this isn't a romance fic, so that is never going to be the center of anything. It is very subplot, and Dick and Babs probably won't get together in this fic anyway because Dick is no where near emotionally healthy enough for a relationship. 
> 
> I really enjoy writing Artemis and her approach to things. She's a great foil for Dick and fun to write. But next up, Bruce. It's been way too long since we heard from him. 
> 
> This fic is heading towards its end. I don't want to drag out this story, and I realized that including the therapy here would make this fic twice as long and clunky. So I will finish this fic soonish. The current plan is ~30 chapters, but the original plan was 11, so... Anyway, I'm going to tie off this fic, and then there will be a sequel that will focus on healing and comfort, and a prequel of sorts that will be more of a series of oneshots. I haven't decided, which I will write first, but it will be after the completion of this one. But that is all I plan to write in the Dick has depression AU.


	24. Chapter 23: Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce deals with emotions the only way he knows how, which is to say, not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning controversial issues discussed below and not by the characters you think.

Dropping the tablet onto his lap, Bruce leaned back into his chair and rubbed a hand down his tired face. His feet were propped up on the far corner of his son’s bed. Dick, unnaturally still in his sleep, had yet to be bothered by the additional weight. Dick’s stillness bothered him. His son was many things; still was not one of them. As a child, Dick had snuck into his bed more than once. Not once did Dick wake in the same position he fell asleep in, not even when Bruce was holding him. 

Since Dick had been allowed back into his room and out of a 24/7 surveillance, the boy hadn’t moved in his sleep, except for the occasional nightmare, where the father had been able to sooth his son back to sleep. Bruce wasn’t sure if he hated the nightmares or Dick looking so dead. No, that was a lie. He unquestioningly knew which one bothered him more. 

Drawing his eyes towards his son’s face, Bruce noticed blue eyes stared back. 

“Jason said you’ve been watching me sleep like some sorta creepy stalker,” Dick croaked, his voice fuzzy from waking up. “I didn’t believe him. I don’t know why. Creepy stalker is definitely your style.” 

Bruce blinked. Then blinked again. In the week that he had taken up this post, he hadn’t prepared himself for the contingency that Dick would wake up and catch him. His brain blanked with anything useful to say. 

Unfazed, Dick asked, gesturing towards the tablet, “What are you working on?” 

Turning his attention to the now dimmed screen, Bruce replied, “I’ve been looking for counselors I can trust.” 

“I thought I’d just see Dr. Collins again.” 

Bruce snorted. “You convinced him that you were well within three months. He diagnosed you with situational depression, failed to realize the depth of your depression, and believed you were well long before you were.” 

The pair fell silent. Dick ducked into himself, and Bruce cursed himself for being useless. He had no idea what was going on in his son’s head, but he knew it was nothing positive. He knew he should combat that, but positivity had never been Batman’s strength. 

“Have you talked to Jason yet?” Dick’s voice was quiet, unsure. It galled his father. His son had never been unconfident. _Except he had, and you never noticed._

“No,” Bruce said. Not in any way that mattered at least. The awkward family dinner that Alfred had forced on them had stopped after the first one. Some fights were not worth fighting. His second son had avoided him since, and the father didn’t pursue. He had no more inkling what to say to his youngest than he did his eldest. “Wayne Enterprises has required more of my time of late.” 

Dick didn’t reply. Bruce breathed through his nose. Another time, his son would have called him out on prioritizing the company over Jason. It broke his heart further, chipping away at pieces he hadn’t realized even still existed. 

Bruce returned to his tablet; the information refusing to stick to in his brain. How many times had he read Dr. Alisa Malcolm’s resume now? 

“Jason needs you,” his son interrupted his thoughts. 

Sighing, Bruce refocused on Dick. “Jason doesn’t want my help.” 

Dick gave him the most incredulous look in reply. Even if it was directed at him, the genius was grateful for the emotion from his son. When Dick spoke, his tone was deadpan. “Jason tried to become a drug lord to get your attention.” 

“There was more to it than that,” Bruce stated.

His son watched him for a moment. The billionaire wished he had the slightest indication of what his son was thinking. “You told me you loved me. Do you love Jason?” 

Whatever Bruce was expecting, it certainly wasn’t that. 

“Of course, I do.” The words burst past his lips. He’s not sure who was more surprised by the outburst. 

“Then tell him.” 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bruce mentally counted to ten. “It’s not that simple, Dick.” 

Jason decided to kill eight men, nine if one counted the Joker, although Bruce didn’t. His son should legally be locked up for life. Bruce Wayne was currently harboring a fugitive and a murderer. This wasn’t something he could fix with love and hugs, even if his eldest didn’t realize there were problems one couldn’t fix with love and hugs. 

“He’s thinking of turning himself in,” Dick stated. 

Bruce had no idea about that. Granted, he hadn’t spoken to Jason, but he assumed the teenager was just waiting for Dick to reach a certain state of healthy before disappearing. If his son turned himself in, that would lead to complications. The public would want to know how Jason was alive. The Waynes would be investigated. The billionaire’s carefully constructed façade would crash in minutes. A civilian court was not an acceptable solution. 

“I thought Jason believed he was in the right,” Bruce retorted.

“Angel Martinez. Richard Alvarez.” 

Those were two of the men Jason had killed, but Bruce didn’t understand the young man’s point. He raised an eyebrow in response. 

Sighing, Dick continued, “Both men had families. Angel was trying to pay his kid’s cancer bills. Richard had been blackmailed into the gang.” 

“You don’t get blackmailed into being second in command to a drug lord.” 

Exasperated, Dick argued, “I know none of them were perfect. The point is Jason left kids _fatherless._ ” His son paused, letting his stress of that word sink in. “He regrets that.” 

Bruce blinked at his son. He hadn’t known that. He hadn’t known Jason regretted any of his recent choices. Could his precious child still be there? His heart ached to hear Jason’s teasing laughter again. 

Belatedly, he realized Dick had asked him a question. “What?” 

“I asked when the last time you slept was.” 

Bruce opted not to reply. 

Dick scooched over on his bed. “Come on then.” 

“I’m fine, Dick.” 

His son rolled his eyes. “You look like a zombie and not the good kind. There’s plenty of room.” 

“There are good kinds?” Bruce hadn’t realized he spoken aloud until Dick’s facial features spoke too unmistakably. Maybe he did need some sleep. Shaking his head, he told his son, “I’ll just go back to my bed.” 

Dick looked down. He hated seeing his son look so uncertain. “I sleep better when you’re here,” he mumbled. 

Bruce wouldn’t deny his son more sleep. He heaved himself onto the bed, leaving plenty of space between the two of them. He caught a flash of a smile before Dick turned over. There was something about that smile that sent warnings to the back of Bruce’s mind, but before he could fully explore them, he was out. 

 

The next morning, Bruce woke up groggily. He needed coffee. He sat on the edge of his bed only to realize he wasn’t in his room. The carpet was wrong. Right. He had slept in Dick’s bed last night. A glance over his shoulder told him that his son had long since vacated the room. On the bedside table, the clock read 11:23 am.  
Gasping in alarm, Bruce reached for his crutches and rushed to his room. He had missed his meeting with Lucius, but he could still make it in time for his afternoon meeting with the board. 

Changing into a one of Brucie’s favorite suits, he missed the noise of Alfred entering into the room with coffee. 

“Good to see you awake, sir,” Alfred stated. 

“Alfred, why didn’t you wake me?” 

Alfred poured coffee into a mug, leaving the silver pitcher on the tray by his bed. 

His tone was dry when he spoke. “When I went to your rooms this morning. you were not here. I presumed you found accommodation elsewhere.” 

Something clicked in Bruce’s brain. Dick’s smile. Alfred’s feigned ignorance. “Did you drug me again?” 

“No, Master Bruce,” his butler reassured him, but there was something wrong with his voice. Alfred sounded old, resigned. The younger man hated it. Almost as if the tone never was, Alfred continued with a voice more his own. Bruce wished he understood what that tone was. “I did, however, promise Master Dick that he could eat whatever he wished today if he succeeded in getting you to sleep for eight hours or more.” 

Dick had manipulated him. He knew there had been something off about his smile last night. Bruce couldn’t keep his annoyance. That was a glimpse of the prank-loving child that Dick had always been. The one that Bruce desperately wanted back. 

Since the billionaire failed to respond, Alfred continued the conversation on his own. “I took the liberty of canceling your morning meetings, although I’ve been informed that you must be present at the board meeting this afternoon.” 

Too used to Alfred’s meddling to truly be annoyed, Bruce downed his cup of coffee and finished dressing. He wished he could put on a pair of shoes, but with the ankle cast it was impossible. At least, this time he didn’t wake to find his nails painted an atrocious shade of chartreuse. 

“Will you be home for dinner, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked with that same tired tone from before. 

Bruce hated that tone. It didn’t belong in his father figure’s body. 

When the younger man didn’t reply, the older one snapped at him, “If you have any attention of helping either of your sons, you need to stop avoiding them.” 

Bruce ignored Alfred as he gathered the coffee tray and left the room. 

 

Arriving home after midnight, the father returned to his normal late-night post with the tablet filled with notes on therapists and recent publications on depression. Only when Bruce got to the room, Dick was still awake, and he was not alone. 

“You think I don’t know that!” Jason shouted, turning to walk out of the room. He stopped the moment he noticed Bruce in the doorway. He glared at Dick. “Screw you, asshole!” 

Ah. Dick set them up. 

“You two need to talk,” his eldest said, unrepentant. 

“Oh, you want us to talk, do you?” A cruel look formed on Jason’s face as he turned towards Bruce. “Dr. Thompkins prescribed Dick antidepressants weeks ago. Guess who still hasn’t gotten the prescription filled?” Jason sneered. 

“Jason!” Dick screamed at his brother. 

“Maybe you should follow your own advice, Dickhead.” 

“Quiet,” Bruce hissed. “Before you wake up Alfred.” 

Jason gave the older man a strange look. “Alfie hasn’t been sleeping.” 

“And why would you know that Jason?” Dick interjected. “I thought we agreed you at least try to sleep.” 

“I tried. It didn’t take,” Jason mumbled. 

Dick looked imploringly at his brother. “Alfred could sedate you,” he offered. 

“I told you. _No drugs._ ” 

The acrobat sighed. 

Perhaps, Bruce thought wryly, he should be home more often just to observe. In that thirty second conversation, he gathered more information than he had in the past week. Leslie had diagnosed Dick with depression and prescribed him drugs, which he refused to take. Jason and Alfred hadn’t been sleeping. His eldest was a hypocrite, although that information wasn’t new. 

“I,” Bruce started, but he quickly realized he had nothing to offer in this situation. “I.” He cleared his throat as his sons waited for him to speak. “It’s good to see you Jason.” 

His youngest gave a look of blatant disbelief, but Dick smiled weakly at him, so he gathered it wasn’t the worst thing to say. 

“Why? So you can turn me into Gordon and his cronies?” 

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. 

“I’m not going to turn you into the GCPD, Jason.” He hadn’t realized until he said it that it was the truth. It was hardly just, but Bruce Wayne couldn’t turn his own son in. Damn, he was going to have to get the League involved. Batman was compromised. 

“You’re not?” Jason asked, skepticism dripping from his tone. 

“No,” Bruce declared. “I want to see you whole and healthy. A civilian prison wouldn’t do that.” 

Jason’s face morphed from confusion to wrath. “A civilian prison?” The teenager scoffed. “But a League prison is fine. Screw you, asshole.” 

His youngest son pushed passed Bruce out the door to Dick’s room and took off. The genius doubted his son would still be in the manor tomorrow morning. 

“For once in your life, could you please put your family in front of your stupid mission?” Dick beseeched him. 

Leaning heavily unto his crutches, Bruce replied, “It’s not that simple, Dick.” 

“Yes,” his eldest ground out. “It is.” 

“Jason murdered eight people in cold blood.” 

“He was Pit Mad!”

“Even with an insanity plea, there are consequences for murder,” the older man replied trying to keep his tone level. 

“Get out, Bruce. Just get out.” The anger had drained from Dick, and he just sounded exhausted. 

Leaving his son’s room, Bruce considered the multitude of ways that conversation could have gone better. 

 

The next morning, the billionaire was surprised to find Jason in his kitchen making omelets. Bruce had awoken before his butler, which almost never happened, so he turned his attention to his coffee pot as he searched his brain for something useful to say. 

“Dick threatened to follow me if I left,” Jason offered, adding bell peppers and onions to his omelet. 

Bruce grunted and tried, “I’m glad you stayed.” 

“Easier to lock me up if you don’t have to hunt me down,” Jason responded flippantly. 

“Jason, I –” Bruce fumbled.

“Save it,” his son cut him off. “Dick told me all about how you secretly love me but are too emotionally repressed to show it.” 

Bruce bit back a groan and decided he’d be more adept at approaching his youngest after a cup of coffee. Pulling a mug from the shelf, he poured a cup of coffee. Finishing one omelet, Jason slid it onto a plate before starting another one. His youngest child had always loved learning from Alfred in the kitchen. It was an area where he surpassed Dick with little exertion. 

Savoring the delicious brew, the genius tried to reach his son again, knowing he only had until he finished the task before he disappeared. 

“Alfred usually cooks breakfast.” Damn, he was terrible at this. He should have taken his coffee and left. 

“ _Alfred_ hasn’t been sleeping,” Jason replied. He froze in his moments at the stove; his tone took on a frigid quality. “Maybe if you were home to do something besides watch Dick sleep, you’d have noticed.” 

“Why isn’t he sleeping?” 

His son glared at him. “I don’t know. Maybe you should ask him.” 

Jason placed his last omelet on a plate and turned and walked out of the room. His arms full of breakfast food. 

In a high-speed blur, Wally West entered the room. “Hey, Alfred, whatcha cooking? It smells delicious!” Taking a look around the kitchen, Dick’s friend sighed. “I guess, I’m cooking.” 

Bruce downed his coffee and left for work. 

 

Returning from work a few hours earlier than his current normal, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises expected to fumble through another conversation with his sons. He did not anticipate finding Diana Prince sitting on the grand staircase across from the manor’s front door. Wearing jeans and a royal blue sweater, she still managed to look as regal. 

He had no idea how the Amazonian warrior had convinced Alfred Pennyworth that she would wait on the steps, but the billionaire had seen Diana end a thousand-year alien civil war through her powers of negotiation, so he knew she had the skills necessary. However, the last surviving Wayne had also seen his butler refuse Superman. 

Diana rose and waited for her teammate to face her. 

“Bruce, we need to talk.” 

Bruce grunted in response. 

“Alfred prepared food and drink for us in your sitting room,” Diana told him as she walked into the room. 

Taking a deep breath, Batman steeled himself for the upcoming conversation. He did not know what his fellow Justice League founder wished to discuss, but he knew that anything that brought Diana to his home did not bode well for the billionaire turned vigilante. 

The Amazonian warrior helped herself to the tea sandwiches Alfred had made and poured herself a cup of tea. Bruce ignored the food. 

“Why are you here, Diana?” 

The woman sat on the antique couch, crossing her legs. She spoke softly, “Why didn’t you tell me Jason was alive?” 

Her words were not harsh but curious. Clark had adopted Dick as his surrogate nephew. Although the two had a major falling out over the man’s treatment of his clone, but Superman and the original Robin had repaired their relationship. Diana had adopted the second Robin, Warrior Heart as she liked to call him. 

For Diana, forgetting to inform her of his second son’s revival was not Batman holding his cards too close to his chest; no, it was a betrayal of their friendship. She expected a legitimate reason, but that was the difference between Superman and Wonder Woman. Clark ignored Bruce’s secrecy and worked around it; Diana confronted it head on and wanted to understand his reasoning. 

“Honestly, I forgot,” Bruce told her. 

Diana nodded and sipped from her tea. “You should eat something, Bruce.” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

The woman raised an eyebrow, reminding Bruce of his butler. “Would you be willing to repeat that while gripping my lasso?” 

“I didn’t realize the purpose of your lasso was to pester your coworkers,” the vigilante replied. 

“The Lasso of Truth is merely a tool to help me achieve my goals. Keeping the world safe is considerably more difficult if Batman faints because he is feeling peckish,” she offered with a smile. 

Bruce snorted but picked up a sandwich. Diana waited for him to finish two cucumber sandwiches before beginning her interrogation. 

“Jason tells me that you wish to place him in a League prison,” the woman stated. 

The Dark Knight did not show his irritation. “Jason left before we could discuss the matter.” 

Diana nodded. “I understand that his anger is still a problem. What are your current plans to help him?”

Bruce didn’t reply. 

“I merely wish to know how I can best help you achieve your goals.” She sipped from her tea cup, looking neutral as if that were her only goal. The Gothamite knew his fellow leaguer too well to be fooled by her political graces. 

Bruce forced himself not to exhale too loudly. He had planned to gather the founders of the League to get their opinion. 

“Jason murdered eight people in cold blood and set-up a trap to have me kill the Joker,” he stated. “Turning Jason over to civilian authorities would lead to an investigation of my identity; however, ignoring that my son committed first degree murder would be a betrayal of everything I stand for.”

“You are also conflicted because of your father’s heart. You do not wish to see the boy you raised behind bars,” Diana added. 

The man neither confirmed nor denied her comments. 

The ambassador leaned forward. “You’ve already forgiven him,” she stated. “Your love for your sons runs deeper than you wish to admit.” 

“My forgiveness is hardly the issue here.” 

“Isn’t it?” Diana questioned. “If Jason knew he had your unconditional love and forgiveness, he’d march up to Gordon and turn himself in.” 

“I don’t want him to do that!”

“What is it you want from him?”

“I want him safe!” And that was the crux of the issue. Bruce couldn’t lose Jason again. 

Diana stared at him. “You do not wish for him to pay for his actions, but your commitment to justice forces your hands. Your spirit has been seared in two.” 

“If you are here to play shrink, you can leave.” 

“I am not hear to play anything, Bruce,” the Amazonian woman informed him. “But it seems that you have forgotten there are different forms of justice.” She steadied herself before continuing. “The death of the Joker was hardly unjust. On Themyscira, the man would have been slain after his first kill. All the men Jason killed had shed innocent blood.” 

“This isn’t Themyscira,” Bruce growled. 

“No, it is not, but there is a difference between killing and murder. Even in this country, an overwhelming majority of states support capital punishment.” 

“Capital punishment is a far cry from cold-blooded murder in the streets,” the Dark Knight snarled. 

“Yes,” Diana replied, keeping her voice neutral. “There’s due process, appeals, and the mess that is the American court system.” The older woman paused. “I agreed to follow the rules of man; I never agreed to forego my opinions on the manner. My point, Bruce, is not that Jason need not face the consequences for his actions, but you need to realize that killing men who were harming others was not the worst thing to happen. If Jason were truly lost to us, his killing would have been far less discriminate.” 

“We. Don’t. Kill,” Batman ground out. 

“I’m well aware of your vain morality that kept the Joker alive to kill innocents longer than was necessary,” Diana replied, her voice tight. “However, was the greater injustice refusing to end the Joker’s reign of terror or ending the Joker?”

Bruce’s broken ankle prevented him from standing to make his point. “I will not have this debate again. Killing is always wrong.” 

She refused to join him in his uncontrolled rage. “I said nothing of killing the Joker. I said ending his reign of terror. Are you telling me that Batman could not have invented a cell the Joker could not have escaped from? You expect me to believe that the man who has found an antidote for every vile concoction his enemies have created, could not have found a drug to help heal the Joker? 

“The crime rate of Gotham has only decreased by 10% since Batman started his crusade. If your true goal was to end crime, I refuse to believe that Bruce Wayne couldn’t be m1ore effective.” 

Curling his hands into fists, the man yelled, “Do not twist my actions!” 

“You do that yourself, Bruce,” she replied, still infuriatingly not angry. “I will gather the League founders and explain the situation.” 

Diana Prince left Bruce Wayne sitting in the dark, stewing on her words until late in the night. 

 

After most of his household was asleep, the billionaire left his sitting room to discuss the matter with his most trusted figure. Bruce hobbled up the staircase and walked down the hall with his crutches to the servant quarters Alfred had refused to move out of. He knocked quietly on the door. It was not often that the man approached his butler in his quarters, but he needed to speak with him and the British man wouldn’t rebuff him. 

“Come in,” Alfred called. 

Bruce found Alfred seated on his chaise lounge with his Bible in his lap and a crystal tumbler of port. The atheist swallowed the bitterness that rose at the sigh of Alfred. He hadn’t seen the elderly man with a Bible since Bruce had told him to take his fairy tales elsewhere. 

“Isn’t drinking while reading the Bible some type of sin?” 

“Hardly,” Alfred responded. “The Savior’s first recorded miracle was turning water into wine.” The religious man closed his book and faced his charge. “Now, how may I be of service, Master Bruce?” 

Looking at the older man, Bruce regretted his decision to intrude on Alfred’s personal time. The man looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot, and his whole stance was weary. The billionaire could not remember a time that the British man had ever looked so haggard, not even after the death of the Waynes. 

“Al, are you okay?” 

Alfred gave him an unimpressed look. “One of my grandchildren does not wish to be alive. The other is dealing with issues I cannot even fathom. My latest charge has seen fit to remove himself from my care, and I have failed the man I consider a son so spectacularly that he cannot even begin to help any of them. No, Bruce, I am not okay.” 

Icy dread filled the billionaire’s veins. How had he forgotten about his current partner? “Where’s Tim?” 

“He has returned home to ensure that the household staff has not noticed his absence, which is bloody rubbish. If the Drakes cared one iota for their son, Timothy never would have been able to follow you in the first place. That boy has been on his own since he turned eight,” Alfred replied. 

The ice melted, and Bruce leaned heavily on his crutches. “When will he be returning?” 

“The day after tomorrow. If he does not return as agreed, I’ll have Richard and Jason retrieve him,” the butler stated. His tone belying his amusement. 

For a moment, Bruce basked in the image of sending both of his sons after Tim. Dick’s overprotective nature. Jason’s relentless teasing. “Sending both would be cruel.”

“Well, I’m afraid Timothy is in need of a reminder that he is important to this family,” the butler said pointedly. 

The genius allowed the remark to stand. He was failing all his sons lately. “I don’t know how to fix this, Al.” 

“Just be here, Bruce.” 

It sounded so simply, but Bruce wasn’t sure he could do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I'm torn between loving this chapter and hating it. It gave me far more trouble than most of the others. But I didn't want to delay any longer in posting it because I know writers can sit on things for forever. 
> 
> I am not a Wonder Woman comic book fan, but I loved the movie, and I can't believe a warrior who was determined to kill Ares would oppose the death penalty.  
> It's a common fan theory that Jason is a big fan of WW, so that was the reference point for Diana and Jason being closer in this fic, especially cuz people in the YJ universe seem closer as a general rule. My headcannon for this is that Diana wanted to kill the Joker after Jason's death, but didn't out of respect for his grieving father. To be completely fair, Bruce can't be blamed for the Joker's continued existence in the comics...that's just a plot device, but I decided to press the issue here. 
> 
> Capital punishment is a complicated issue. I'm not trying to make a case for or against it. Although as a child, I never did understand why superheroes just didn't kill their villains. He's just going to return next week and kill more people. My thinking is far less black and white these days. My main goal was to explore the issue outside of the Batfamily, and whether Dick and Babs like it or not, Jason's actions have consequences. 
> 
> I'd really love your feedback. What did you think of Diana and her arguments, regardless of your personal views on the death penalty? 
> 
> Did Alfred's exhaustion seem too forced? My goal was to show that as strong as Alfred is for his family, even he reaches his breaking point. 
> 
> Is it clear that Dick's depression is exhausting him, even when he'd normally have much more of a temper?


	25. Chapter 24:Roy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Roy makes a new friend. This won't be bad for Dick at all...

“WAHHHH!” WAHHH!” 

“Come on, princess, please,” Roy cooed at his daughter to no avail. 

“Wahhh! Wahhh!” 

Holding his daughter to his chest, the new father paced back and forth in his living room. He had tried singing. He had tried making her laugh. He had checked her diaper. Jade had just fed her an hour ago. He was running out of ideas. 

“Please, baby,” he whimpered. 

“You look pathetic,” Jade said as she sauntered into the room. “Why do I find you cute?” 

The woman reached up and took her daughter from her husband. Lian fussed but latched onto her mother, still screaming her lungs out. 

Roy rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his untamed hair. “Why won’t she stop crying?”

Jade held Lian against her hip and searched through her pockets until she found a throwing star, which she handed to their child. Lian grabbed the star and stopped crying as she watched the way light reflected off of its smooth surface.

The girl’s father paled. “What are you doing?!” 

Turning her body so the pair were out of reach of Roy’s desperate grab, Jade responded, “Relax, it’s not one of my poisoned ones, and I dulled the blade.” 

“That makes me feel so much better,” Roy responded, deadpan. 

“Daddy’s just a little worrywart, isn’t he, sweetheart?” Jade cooed over their child. 

His wife never looked more attractive than when she held and loved their little girl. It was unlikely that Jade would give Lian anything that could hurt her, although Jade’s own childhood left much to be desired and her definition of safe wasn’t much better. Despite himself, a soft smile rose on the man’s lips. He loved his girls so much.

The Asian woman looked at him with fond exasperation. “You are a sap,” she told him. 

Roy shrugged, saying, “Just don’t tell the guys.” 

She rolled her eyes in exaggeration and placed Lian in her pack and play. “If you’re through, I came here to tell you that Artemis called. She needs me at the Watchtower for something.” 

“Now?” Roy asked. “It’s your turn to watch Lian. I told Wally I’d check in on Dick.” 

“Yes, now,” Jade replied, her tone firm. “Artemis needs me.” 

Turning to face his wife, the redhead finally noticed that she was wearing her Cheshire costume minus the mask. 

“Jade, we talked about this.”

Crossing her arms, she huffed, “Oh like you don’t drop everything as soon as one of those two knuckleheads needs you.” 

“Dick has depression,” Roy fired back. 

“Oh please, that idiot just likes the attention.” 

He bit down on the anger that threatened to override his judgment. He would not lose his temper in front of Lian. His baby girl deserved so much more than he could give her. 

Shifting his weight, Roy asked, “How long will it take for you to believe Artemis has forgiven you?”

Jade scoffed, “I didn’t ask for her forgiveness. I’m evening the score.” 

Roy thought about how to respond. Any conversation regarding Jade’s family could quickly turn into a minefield. He didn’t want Lian dealing with these types of grenades until she was much much older. Preferably never. 

“Save your preaching, Roy,” Jade continued, clearly done with the conversation. “We can have this conversation when you’re done being a hypocrite.” 

Roy curled his hand into a fist. Refusing to lose control, he spoke in a clipped tone, “And what am I supposed to do with Lian?” 

Sauntering out of the room the same way she came in, Jade called, “Take her with you. Lian loves her Uncle Dick.” 

The archer bit back a few curses. He didn’t want to take Lian with him. Dick was useless with infants. He dragged a hand down his face. He could call Ollie. Again. 

Digging his cell phone out of his pocket, he placed the call. 

“Hello Roy,” Dinah greeted. 

“Hey Dinah, I thought I called Ollie.” 

“You did, but I’ve confiscated his phone.” 

She didn’t offer an explanation, and Roy decided that he didn’t want to know. 

“Okay, well look, I was just wondering-”

Dinah cut him off, “If we would be willing to watch Lian for you.” 

Roy grimaced. Yeah, okay, maybe he was using his mentor and his girlfriend a little too often as free babysitters. 

“You are starting to put ideas in Ollie’s head.” She sighed. “I’m not interested in children, Roy.” 

Roy smiled. Personally, he thought Dinah was a fantastic mother figure, but he kept the comment to himself. “Because you already have an entire League and mini-League to babysit.” 

“That is not what I said.” Roy could hear her eyeroll. “But yes, we’ll watch Lian.”

“Thank you.” 

“Yes, yes, you’re eternally grateful, but if Ollie starts adopting children, I’ll know who to blame,” the blonde grumbled. 

Chuckling the archer said good-bye and hung up the phone. 

 

Arriving at Wayne Manor, Roy began to head towards the front door, but then he heard laughter from one of the side entrances. Heading that way, the archer found Dick and his two younger brothers. What must have been Jason had Tim hefted over his shoulder. Tim appeared to have given up struggling but was still offering token protests. Dick laughed at the pair, yet something stuck the redhead as off. 

 

_Roy paced back and forth in the Batcave, annoyed with the two younger superheroes in front of him. “How do you two always know when Dick is lying about his depression?”  
“Dick’s a born performer, but not even he can fake joy in his eyes,” Wally offered helpfully. He was seated on one of the surfaces in the Batcave, kicking his legs back and forth. _

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Bruce taught all of us how to lie. He taught us to learn our tics and tells and eliminate them. We’re all very good at lying, but Dick’s too expressive for his eyes to lie,” Barbara explained._

_Roy stared at his fellow redheads. “I have absolutely no idea what you two are talking about.”_

_Wally tried again, “Have you ever noticed the times Dick doesn’t seem to notice you? Like he’s looking through you, even though he’s got a smile on his face and participating in the conversation?”_

_Biting back a stab of guilt, Roy replied, “No, Wally, I haven’t. I was gone for five years, remember?”_

_“And Dick’s depression started manifesting after you left,” Barbara said. “Well, trust me. You will know it when you see it. You just need to know to look for it.”  
_

Barbara was right. You did know it when you saw it. Observing his friend as he watched his two siblings, Roy wondered how he never noticed before. Dick grinned and cackled, but his eyes seemed hollow and empty. A shiver ran down the archer’s spine. 

Shaking the feeling away, Roy called over to the trio. Jason promptly dropped Tim and eyed the newcomer. Dick slapped Jason upside the head and reminded the younger boy that Timmy still had stitches in his shoulder. Jason flushed slightly. 

“Hey Roy,” Dick greeted. “This is my younger brother, Jason.” 

The younger teenager eyed Roy distrustfully. Then he turned to his brother and said, “What is it with you and redheads?”

Dick rolled his eyes and ruffled Jason’s hair. 

“He’s right, you know. Only 2% percent of the world’s population are redheads. It’s statistically improbable that your three best friends would all have red hair,” Tim answered. 

“See,” Jason replied, crossing his arms in triumph. “Even the replacement agrees with me.” 

“Maybe I’m just special then.” 

“You are, you know.” Roy barely caught Tim’s whisper. 

Dick ruffled Tim’s hair playfully but didn’t answer Tim’s statement. Instead he turned to his friend. “What can we do for you?” 

“Just wanted to check-in.” 

The acrobat pulled an unflattering facial expression. Roy didn’t exactly blame him. No one enjoyed constant hovering, but Dick had brought this on himself. 

“Come on, Tim,” Jason called, walking towards the manor. “Leave Dick to his harem of redheads.” 

“You’re just jealous that he’s your brother and you can’t have him,” Roy fired back. 

Jason and Tim had already disappeared into the mansion, but Roy would never forget Dick’s face of disgust. 

“Please never ever say something like that again.” 

Roy laughed, long and hard.

“If you’re finished,” Dick replied. “You can tell Wally that I’m fine.” 

The archer crossed his arms, so that was how Dick wanted to play it. Fair enough. “I’m getting tired of you lying all the time.” 

“I’m not lying. I’ll be fine.”

Sometimes you had to hit a target from a different angle. “How are the stitches?” 

The acrobat eyed Roy but replied, “Fine, I got the stitches out of my arm yesterday. I’ll get the stomach stitches out next week.” 

“That’s good. Any idea when Nightwing will be back on the streets again?” The archer asked. 

Dick rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s gonna be a while.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“You know why,” his friend spat. 

Raising one eyebrow, Roy crossed his arms. “I thought you were fine.” 

Dick let out a guttural cry and swung a fist at Roy. Surprised, the archer did not have enough time to dodge, but his honed fighter instincts allowed him to roll with the blow. When he hit the ground, he swung his legs to sweep his opponent. Only he failed to realize that his opponent had stopped fighting. 

Bending down to offer Roy a hand up and apologizing profusely, Dick caught Roy’s kick straight across the face. The acrobat stumbled backwards; hands immediately coming to cover his face. Horrified, Roy jumped to his feet to see if his friend was okay. However, someone yanked on the back of his shirt and pulled. The archer turned around and jabbed with his right arm, but his aggressor had expected the move and dodged. Landing on one arm, Roy’s new opponent did a spinning kick. He sidestepped the kick and pulled a knife. 

That’s when he noticed his attacker was none other than Jason Todd. 

“What the hell?” 

Jason charged him again. Roy barely had time to shift his grip, so that the knife wouldn’t accidentally injure Dick’s brother, which meant he failed to block the punch Jason aimed at his gut. Roy dropped to the ground and rolled away. He sprang up with his knife in a reverse grip a few feet from Jason. 

A sharp slap of metal knocked the knife out of his hand. Tim stood between them; his Bo staff extended, pointed towards Jason. 

The current Robin stared at his predecessor. “It was just an accident.”

Jason nodded. 

“Master Timothy, I do hope you haven’t pulled your stitches with that stunt,” Alfred cried from the side entrance of the manor. 

Sheepishly, Tim folded his Bo staff and headed towards the ruler of Wayne Manor. Dick had already been led inside. 

“Sorry,” Jason responded curtly. 

Roy waved the apology away. “I’m glad to know Dick has someone looking out for him.” 

“He’s got too many,” the teenager grumbled. 

Dick probably felt the same. 

“Well, I’m not here to hurt him.” 

Jason sneered. “And yet you still did.” 

Wally was right. Dick’s younger brother was a punk. 

“I think your death hurt him a lot more.” 

It occurred to Roy that provoking a newly resurrected teenager was not his best idea, but Jason didn’t try to punch him again. Instead he stomped towards the manor with fists clenched. The archer followed.

Inside, Tim had his shirt off while Alfred prodded his shoulder. Holding paper towels under his nose, Dick sulked on a kitchen chair next to the pair. Yeah, Dick was definitely getting tired of all the hovering. As much of a mother hen as the man could be, he didn’t stand being coddled well. 

After finishing with Tim, Alfred stared down the boys in the kitchen. “Now, will someone please explain to me what happened?” 

Dick removed the paper towels to reply, but Jason beat him to it. 

“Dickhead’s friend looked at me funny, and I started a fight. I hit Dick by accident,” Jason stated, daring anyone to contradict him. 

Roy was flabbergasted. This was not the picture that Wally had painted of a punk who constantly tried to interfere with Dick’s friendships, nor did it fit with his interactions with the teenager so far.

The eldest rushed to correct that statement. 

“Keep those paper towels under that nose for a full ten minutes, Master Dick,” Alfred said without turning around. The butler stared at Jason and raised one single eyebrow. The boy shifted under the weight of the gaze, and Roy wondered just how old Jason was. 

Tossing his hands up, the teenager growled, “Fine. Dick hit his friend.” The way Jason said friend assured Roy that the teenager did not see him as one. “His friend kicked him in the face. I overreacted. Tim put a stop to it.” 

“Next time begin with the truth, Master Jason. For punishment, you can take Mister Harper and Master Timothy into the den and entertain them until I’m finished with Master Dick,” Alfred declared. 

Jason looked unhappy with that decree, but he didn’t challenge the elderly man. Roy didn’t hold the same qualms. 

“Actually, I’d rather just stay with Dick,” he stated. 

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. Richard will be spending the next six minutes considering the repercussions of his actions.” Dick looked murderous. Alfred was unfazed. “No matter how angry we are, we do not punch people.” 

“Unless they’ve broken the law,” Jason added helpfully. 

Dick snorted, causing his nose to gush more blood and Alfred to chase them out of the kitchen. 

Once they entered the den, Jason turned to face him. 

“So we have video games where you can murder pixels because that doesn’t offend someone’s delicate sensitivities,” the teenager told him, dripping sarcasm. “Or I can put a movie on, so we don’t have to pretend to like each other.” 

Roy felt his lips twitch. He couldn’t help it. He liked this stupid punk of a kid. Anyone who was willing to dive on an Alfred grenade to protect his brother was okay in Roy’s book. Plus, Jason was raw; honest, in a way Dick rarely was. 

“Let’s murder some pixels,” the redhead responded. “I haven’t done that in a while.” 

Jason looked surprised but recovered quickly and busied himself with setting up the console. Roy joined Tim on the couch. 

“You don’t get a vote?” Roy asked him. 

“I perfectly happy with either choice,” he stated. 

The kid sounded so prim and proper. It rubbed Roy the wrong way. How old was this kid anyway? 

“Ignore him,” Jason said as he sat between them on the couch. “You and I are going to play on the same team because Timmy is a menace.” 

The current Robin looked far too innocent. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Yeah right,” Jason groused. 

When Dick entered the room ten minutes later, Roy knew what Jason had meant. Tim was a demon at video games. He had killed Jason and Roy multiple times, and Roy had only managed one headshot. 

The acrobat sank into the easy chair, holding an icepack against his swollen nose. Roy flinched at the sight. 

“Sorry about that.” 

Dick waved his apology away. “It was my fault.” 

Roy wanted to ask what he had done to set his friend off but figured the conversation was better left for when they were alone. 

“Don’t worry about it. Dick’s been real pissy lately,” Jason added helpfully. 

Dick sputtered in response. “I have not.” 

“Oh please!” the youngest Wayne turned his attention from the screen to look at his brother. “If your idiot friend didn’t have super speed, you’d have hit him last week.” Wally could have informed Roy that the two had almost come to blows. “I saw the tree you punched the other day. You’re going to regret that when Alfie finds it.” 

“You’re punching trees?” Roy asked. According to Wally, Dick was mostly lethargic these days. 

“Alfred locked him out of the Cave,” Jason responded helpfully. 

“It was only one tree,” Tim clarified. 

“Shut up!”

Roy knew that look. Dick was planning an escape attempt, and by the look of things, it was imminent. He knew he should have this conversation in private, but Jason and Tim were good informants. As far as the archer was concerned, Dick had lost the right to privacy when he decided to patrol without Kevlar. If you were going to make idiot decisions, you got treated like an idiot. 

He waited a beat for a silence to fill the room. 

“So,” Roy began, intentionally dragging the word out. “What’s the escape plan?” 

Dick stiffened in his chair. If looks could kill, Roy Harper would have met the afterlife. 

“I’m not planning an escape attempt,” the acrobat responded, voice tight. 

Jason snorted. Tim looked incredulous. Yup. Roy was glad he had kept them for this conversation. It was easier to blindside Dick when you charged at him from multiple perspectives. 

“When you were eleven, you zetaed to Star City because you broke your arm on patrol, and you were tired of Batman’s coddling,” Roy stated. 

“When I was alive,” Jason began and Dick melted at the wording. “You ran off to Bludhaven every time you and Bruce had a fight.” 

Tim looked at Dick with an apologetic expression. “You ran off to Bludhaven Police Academy three weeks ago.” 

“Why would he run to the police academy?” Jason asked, looking around the room. “You’re planning on being a cop?!” Launching himself to his week, the second Boy Wonder started pacing in the room. “Is there anything you do that’s not perfect?! I’m Dick Grayson. I’m a fricking Golden Child, and I fight crime both day and night. Someone should give me a gold star.” 

Dick threw himself out of his chair. “It’s not about that! Believe it or not, but my decisions are not about showing you up!” 

Perhaps having this conversation with Dick’s brothers had been a bad idea. The eldest of Bruce’s partners stormed out of the room, followed by the second eldest, stomping off in a different direction.

Next to him, Tim sighed. He put the console controllers away and shut down the system, but not before killing both Roy and Jason one more time. 

“Give Dick twenty minutes. He’ll be in his room for the next three to six hours, staring at the ceiling,” Tim told him. 

Roy didn’t like the image that painted of his friend. He changed the topic. “And Jason?” 

“Most likely in the Batcave or one of the manor’s libraries. If you’d rather deal with Jason, I’ll go to Dick,” Tim offered. 

The truth was the Redhead would rather go after Jason. Jason, with all his flaws, expressed himself clearly. He already felt like he had a clearer understanding of him than he did of Dick’s depression. And anger. Well, Roy was intimately familiar with anger. He didn’t want to deal with this ugly thing eating Dick alive. It was easier when Dick was yelling. But to just sit with him in his darkness – Roy didn’t think he was capable of that. 

But. Dick was his friend. Dick needed him. And for once, Roy was going to be there. 

“No, it’s fine. I’ll go after Dick.” 

 

After waiting the specified twenty minutes, Roy approached Dick’s room in the manor. Unsurprisingly, the room was dark. He didn’t bother knocking. There was no reason to give Dick time to compose himself. 

The original sidekick sat on the floor, leaning against the footboard of his bed with his arms wrapped around his legs. His eyes were closed, and his head rested on the top of his footboard. 

“I suppose asking you to knock is pointless,” Dick said. 

The defeated quality in his friend’s voice made him regret his actions. This wasn’t one of those times when Dick needed sense knocked into him, but that was the only support Roy knew how to give. He approached the bed. 

“May I?” 

Dick shrugged in response, and Roy lowered himself onto the ground next to one of the best men he knew. The pair sat in silence for a moment. Roy was used to silence. During his quest to find the original Roy Harper, the clone had gotten used to being alone. He never had Dick’s need to chat. But sitting in silence, while his friend struggled unnerved the archer. 

“What are you thinking?” He tried.

“Honestly?” 

“Yeah.” 

There was silence for a long time. Roy resigned himself to sitting in silence when Dick broke it. 

“I’m thinking about how much better everything would be if I hadn’t returned to the manor,” the acrobat replied. 

“Bull!” 

Dick still didn’t open his eyes. “I don’t have the energy to fight you, Roy.” 

“Good,” Roy spat out. “Then listen. Tim and Jason adore you. I don’t know the full story, but no one is that protective of someone they don’t love. Alfred is controlling because he loves you. I’m sure Batman is hovering being his usual overbearing self. So don’t tell me for one second that, life would be better without you here. Your family loves you.” 

“They shouldn’t.” 

Roy saw red. He stood up to avoid socking his friend. “No, you don’t get to throw away all that love because you’re having a bad day.”

Dick didn’t even respond; Roy’s anger grew. 

“You’re smarter than this.” 

The acrobat still didn’t respond. 

“Where’s the list?” 

Another refusal of to do anything. 

“Dick. Where’s the list?” 

Finally, his friend sighed. “It’s on the nightstand.” 

Roy grabbed it. “Read it.” 

Dick didn’t move. 

The redhead growled, “Fine, I’ll read it. You repeat.” 

“I’m not in the mood, Roy.” 

“I don’t care. Repeat after me. Dick Grayson is a good man.” 

Dick didn’t, so Roy kicked him much lighter than he wanted to. 

“Go away,” Dick responded. 

“You want me to go away? Then repeat after me. Dick Grayson is a good man.” 

Dick’s glare turned murderous, but he complied. “Dick Grayson is a good man.” 

“Dick Grayson is a good friend.” 

Dick’s voice sounded sarcastic, but he repeated, “Dick Grayson is a good friend.” 

By the time, they got to the end. Dick had stopped fighting. Roy was bemused to note that Jason had added his own colorful commentary at the end.

“Why can’t I believe any of this?” His friend asked. 

Exhausted, Roy squatted next to his friend. 

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But I’m here to cram it down your throat until you do.” 

Dick smiled lightly. “Thanks Roy.” 

“What’s the update on the therapist front?” 

“Bruce is vetting counselors. I think he wants one that I won’t have to lie to,” Dick responded. 

“At all?” A nod. “That’s going to be tough to find. Why don’t you talk to Dinah until then?” 

Dick stared at the carpet. It took him a moment to form the right words. 

“I don’t want her to think less of me.” 

Roy nudged him. “You know she won’t.” 

“I’ll think about it.” 

The clone dropped the subject but returned to his original inquiry. “Do you have an escape plan?”

Dick gave a humorless laugh. “I have five, but I can’t leave.” Roy waited for Dick to continue. “If I leave, Jason and Bruce will destroy this manor. Jason will disappear. Alfred’s heart will be crushed, and Timmy won’t have a mentor.” 

“So your plan is to trade your sanity for the sake of your family?” Roy responded incredulously. 

His friend shrugged. “It’s my job.” 

“No,” Roy roared. “Your job is to get better.”

“Okay.” 

Springing to his feet yet again, Roy paced. He needed the ability to punch depression in the face. That would make him feel so much better. He wondered if Miss Martian could pull Dick’s mental illness out of his body turn it into a physical shape that he could beat up. Wait. Could Miss Martian pull mental illness from someone? He filed that thought away. Surely, Artemis would be willing to talk to the Martian about it. 

“You can’t stay here if it’s going to kill you,” Roy said instead. “You know there are places you could go.” 

“I’m staying.”

“Dick.”

“No Roy, you don’t get it,” Dick screamed. “The manor is keeping me alive.” 

The archer froze. 

“Shit,” the acrobat fumbled. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Explain.” 

Dick scrambled into a standing position. “I’m not on watch or anything,” he attempted to reassure. “I just meant that.” The acrobat pinched his nose. “I hate myself less when I’m not alone.” 

Roy’s heart started beating again, and he pulled his friend into a hug. “Idiot, you’ve never been alone.” Neither mentioned the tears that soaked Roy’s shirt. “I’m sorry I left,” he whispered. “I’m here now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting for Roy and Jason to meet! Remember when I said friendship was really important to me? I love all the friendships. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next up: Jason.


	26. Chapter 25: Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jason adopts a younger brother. This is definitely Dick's fault.

The howling laughter of the Joker followed him as he ran down the dark hall. There were no doors. No escape. He couldn’t see more than a foot in front of him, but he kept running. The laughter chased him. He tripped over his own feet. The cackles grew louder. Desperate, he crawled away. The laughter pulled on him. 

“No, no, no.” Tears streamed down his face. His heart pounded in his chest. He was going to die. 

“Tell me, which hurts more?” The chortles wielded a crowbar. 

“No!” 

Jason woke up with a gasp. Heart-racing, he took several deep breaths. He curled his hands into the soft fabric of the couch. The couch was forest green. A light cream-colored afghan covered him, which meant Alfred had checked in on him after he had fallen asleep. The lights in the room had been dimmed, but they weren’t off. The midday sun peeked through the half-closed blinds. He was in a library on the fourth floor of the manor. A floor he had chosen because the manor’s residents didn’t often venture this way. 

He wasn’t with the Joker. 

He was okay. 

Jason breathed again. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he exhaled. Grabbing his phone, he scrolled through his pictures until he found the one of the Joker’s corpse.

_He’s dead._

_He’ll never hurt you or anyone else again._

_He’s dead._

Something poked into his legs. He reached down and pulled the books he had been studying off the couch and placed them on the table next to the laptop he had been working on before taking an unexpected departure to dreamland. 

The tea on the table next to him had long since grown cold. The cup was still full. He didn’t trust Alfred not to drug his tea. Plus, it was that god-awful flavor that he had somehow loved as a child. Now it just tasted like a Starburst and a peppermint had a lovechild they abandoned to mold. Why had Alfred ever allowed him to drink that? 

Frowning at the tea, he debated what to do about it. He could leave it, which would be an insult to Alfred. He could dump it down the sink and hope the butler didn’t notice. Or he could tell Alfred that he no longer liked the tea. _Right, and pigs flew._

Jason gathered the tea and decided to throw it down the toilet, where Alfred was less likely to notice. He opened the library’s door, only to stumble on Timothy Drake in the hallway. Tim leaned against the wall opposite of the door, legs stretched out as he read. 

“Hi,” he said with a small wave. 

Narrowing his eyes, Jason asked, “Are you stalking me?” 

“No.” The boy returned to his book.

Timothy Drake was a damn menace as far as Jason was concerned. He had no doubt the boy was a Slytherin. Reading through the reports, he had left showed Jason that his replacement was methodical but goal oriented. Anyone who could convince Bruce that he was wrong and needed something was an ambitious snake. Jason was not interested in being his new pet project. 

“Why are you here?” He growled. 

Tim closed the book. “Alfred said you were sleeping.”

“That didn’t answer the question.” 

The boy closed his eyes. “You’ve been having nightmares.” 

Jason cursed loudly. In three languages. “Did Dickhead tell you that?” 

“Dick doesn’t talk to me about you. I heard you. Plus, you’ve been avoiding sleep.” 

“You have been stalking me,” Jason accused.

“No,” Tim refuted. “I haven’t been sleeping either.” 

That’s when Jason noticed the bags under the kid’s eyes. 

“Nightmares?” 

Tim shrugged. 

Jason sighed and decided to rid himself of the tea. Then he’d deal with the kid in the hallway. This really should be a job for Dick. He’s the one that kept adopting younger brothers. Jason never asked for Tim. 

Steeping over Tim’s legs, Jason saw the kid flinch. Cursing, Jason dropped the teacup onto the floor. Tim practically curled into himself. 

“Shit, are your nightmares about me?! Why the hell are you following me around then?!”

Tim stood up and glared. “My nightmares are about getting shot. I find that less likely if I know where you are.” 

Jason’s vision went green. 

His vision faded back to normal.

His hand was throbbing. Why was his hand throbbing? 

The wall where Tim’s head was now had a visible hole. He turned to look for the kid. Tim had moved out of the way, but he was still close by, watching. God, this kid was a Dick Grayson wannabe martyr. 

“You okay?” Tim asked. 

Jason took a deep breath and nodded. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” Tim’s shoe scraped against the floor. “You’re not to blame for my nightmares.” 

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one who shot you.” 

“It’s not your fault that I’m not strong enough to handle it,” Tim whispered. “I never should have become Robin.” 

This time Jason didn’t even remember his vision going green. He came to with the tea cup smashed against the far wall, some stupid picture of a boat torn at his feet, and Tim Drake looking at him with wide eyes. 

“Where’s Bruce?” He growled. 

His stupid replacement didn’t reply. 

“Where’s Bruce?” 

“At work,” Tim said. 

Jason’s fists were still curled into fists and his shoulders were drawn tight. “Dick?” 

“The upstairs gym.” 

Jason stormed down the hallway. Tim chased after him. 

“Wait. Hold on,” Tim pleaded, trying to grab Jason’s arm. “You’re not going to do something stupid, are you?” 

Jason shoved him off and kept walking. “I just want to talk.” 

Tim looked doubtful, but he followed the elder teenager. 

Arriving in the gym, they found Dick Grayson at the bench press. 

“Does Alfred know you’re in here?” 

The bar clanked back into place. Dick stood up and swiped a towel over his sweaty forehead. 

“I’m not doing anything that will damage my stitches,” Dick replied. 

Jason snorted. “That’s a no.” Whatever. He could only deal with one idiot brother at a time. 

Dick looked the pair over. His brow furrowed in what Jason had dubbed his I’m about to big a gigantic mother hen face. “What can I do for you two?” 

“Why the hell does Tim think he’s a failure for having nightmares?” 

Dick’s face shot to Tim’s. “You’ve been having nightmares, Timmy?” 

The youngest Robin shrank into himself. “It’s not a big deal.” 

“Aw, Tim.” The oldest brother pulled the youngest into a hug. 

Satisfied, Jason started to walk out of the room. Only to have Dick reach out and snatch his wrist. 

“I don’t think so, Jaybird. This is a group hug.” 

Before Jason could reply, he had been tugged into a hug with the other two. The former Robin felt the room close in on him. His chest closed. 

Dick released the pair. Jason scurried away to put space between them. 

“I’m sorry, guys,” Dick said. “Sleeping is about the only thing I’m good at right now. Why don’t we take a nap in my room?” 

Jason knew that a nap surrounded by confining and overbearing brothers would not help his nightmares. 

“It’s okay. I’m fine,” Tim replied. 

Big blue eyes looked down at the floor. Dick’s voice was a murmur. “Timmy, it’d really make be feel better about myself if I could help you.” 

Tim folded and agreed. Before the first Robin could turn his tricks on him, Jason was out of the room. Stomping towards his perch, Jason was pissed. The world held a green haze, but he wasn’t in danger of losing time. 

No, his anger was a new hum under his skin. 

Dick was a manipulative bastard. 

And Jason had fallen for it like an idiot. 

He knew Dick could persuade anyone of anything. Hell, he’d seen his brother talk Babs out of a high-risk solo mission, and yet, he had still fallen prey to his manipulations. Because a small part of him was still a weak little boy looking for acceptance. 

Damn. How could he have let this happen? He needed to leave. He needed space between him and Dick, so he could think clearly. After he yelled at Bruce for his treatment of Tim. Because Bruce was still an asshole. 

A bright blur slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. 

“Dammit West, get out of my way,” Jason growled. 

Wally stood up next to him. “Believe it or not, I’m not here for you. Where’s Dick?” 

“In his room.” 

The redhead looked him up and down. “What happened?” 

“Nothing that concerns you, Twinkletoes.” 

Wally’s jaw clenched before zipping off after Dick. Jason was disappointed. He could use a fight right now. 

 

Returning to the fourth floor, he noticed the shards of the teacup and the broken wood of the picture frame were still in the hallway. That was unusual. He had a faint recollection that Alfred went to the grocery store on Tuesdays. Jason grabbed a trash bag and cleaned up his mess. He couldn’t remember where the vacuum was kept, but he did grab some towels for the tea that had seeped into the carpet. 

He padded the floor when Dickhead showed up. 

“I thought you were napping with Tim.” 

Dick shrugged. “Wally’s with him.”

Jason wondered the chances of Dick leaving if he just ignored him. 

“What happened?” 

Whirling around to face his sorry excuse for a brother, Jason exploded, “You are a manipulative asshole! And I fell for it like an f-ing idiot. Do you practice it or is it just who you are?” 

Raising his hands in a calming gesture that pissed Jason off, Dick looked confused. “Whoa. What are you talking about?”

“Oh Timmy, I’ll feel so much better if you let me help you!” Jason raised his voice to a falsetto. “Oh Little Wing, if you’d left the manor, I’d feel so much worse about myself. Please don’t do that to me.” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

Jason’s fist clenched. The world took on a dangerous green hue. He would not punch Dick. He would not punch Dick. “No, you heavily suggested it!” 

The worried furrow in Dick’s brow shifted towards anger. “So I’m not allowed to express how much you mean to me.” 

He punched the wall again. This time the skin of his knuckles tore, and the pain caused some of the green to fade. 

Dick’s face moved backed to worried, and Jason probably had about two seconds before big brother descended to help. 

“You don’t even realize you’re doing it, do you?” Jason asked with a hollow laugh. 

Stepping closer, Dick reached forward and gently reached for his brother’s wrist. “Let me help you bandage that.” 

The worried frown on his older brother’s face caused the last of the green to fade. Sighing, Jason acquiesced. Dick led them to the bathroom where Jason sat on the toilet and held his hand up for inspection. Silence descended on the room as Dick cleaned and bandaged the hand. The pop of the chemical ice pack broke the quiet. 

Dick handed the ice pack over and swung himself up onto the counter. “So,” he dragged the o out. “What was that about?” 

Jason shook his head. “I can’t stay here for you.” 

“I didn’t ask you to.” 

After he had counted to ten, Jason responded, “Yes, you did. You flat out told me that if I left the manor, you’d follow me. Tell me that wasn’t designed to get me to stay.” 

Dick opened his mouth to respond. Then he snapped it shut. Jason saw the light leave his brother’s eyes. Damn. He had a ten second window to fix this. He hopped onto the counter next to Dick and nudged him in the shoulder. 

“Hey, no. Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.” 

Dick let out a mirthless laugh. “You have no idea what I’m thinking.” 

“Hate to break this to you, Dickhead, but your eyes give you away.” 

An unsteady grin appeared. “Are you admitting to staring into my eyes, Little Wing?” 

Jason shoved Dick off the counter. Dick turned the landing into a triple twirl with a flourish. Jason rolled his eyes. 

His older brother turned serious just as quickly as he had twirled. “I do care about you, Jaybird.” 

“I know,” Jason said. “It’s why I’m still here.” 

“Do you want to leave?” 

“I don’t know,” he confessed. Jason’s feelings on staying were conflicted. On one hand, he avoided the second floor with his old room like Robin avoided Poison Ivy’s plants. The ghosts of his past haunted those hallways. The two holes in the hallway were not the only recent remodeling to the manor. On the other hand, it gave him a sense of peace to know that Dick was alive and breathing under the same roof. Alfred’s quiet company helped him to defeat the green tinge to his vision. Tim wasn’t as irritating as he first thought. And Bruce. Okay, Jason wasn’t ready to address his Bruce issues. His less than stellar father figure could be shoved in the same box as his guilt issues. 

“I do know I’d like to sock Bruce,” Jason answered. 

Dick chortled. “Yeah, but that’s not new.” 

“What happened to him?” 

The acrobat’s face looked immeasurably sad. “You died, Jason. It changed everything.” 

And wasn’t that a kick in the teeth? Jason had thought himself justified in his quest to force Batman to murder the Joker, but now. Now, he realized he didn’t do enough research. Dick had been crushed by his death. And Bruce. Bruce turned into someone Jason could no longer identify. Maybe if he had killed the Joker, Bruce wouldn’t be so angry. 

“I’m still going to yell at him. Tim deserves better.” 

Dick grinned. 

“Shut up.” 

Dick’s face nearly split in two. “I told you you’d like him.” 

“Shut up!”

 

Jason waited for Bruce in clear view of the garage door. He briefly considered hiding himself in the shadows of the room but figured that was more likely to get him a batarang to the face. Instead, he dragged a chair and a stool over to the entrance. His feet were propped up, and he was reading the second in the _Legend_ series. He had been waiting for two hours since the billionaire was avoiding the manor like the spoiled brats Jeffrey and Billy avoided Jason after he kicked their asses in middle school. 

When Bruce finally hobbled through the door, Jason was in the middle of the book’s climax. Of course, Bruce would show then. 

“Jason.” 

“Hey B-Man,” he greeted, ignoring how the world always turned green around Bruce. “We need to talk.” 

Bruce’s jaw ticked in a way that Jason knew meant he was disgruntled, but the man nodded. 

“Jason, I–”

“Nope,” Jason said, popping the p. “I get to talk.” 

The billionaire turned vigilante nodded once. 

“See, I’ve been doing some research, paying attention, observing details – all those pesky little things you taught me to do. And what I can’t figure out is what Timmybird did to piss you off so much.” 

“I’m not mad at Tim,” Bruce responded obviously confused. 

“Really? So you just avoid your partners on principal now?” Jason crossed his arm. If he kept his voice neutral, he wouldn’t lose time. 

Bruce heaved a very put-upon sigh. “I’m not avoiding Tim.” 

“Really,” Jason drawled. “How many times have you seen him since you broke your ankle?” 

The billionaire brows furrowed. 

“I’ll give you a hint. It’s more than one, but less than three.” 

“That can’t be right.” 

“Oh, it’s right. I thought you didn’t notice when I died, but I was wrong, wasn’t I? Hell, you died too, didn’t you?” 

“Jason.” 

The teenager cut him of again. “Get your head out of your ass, Bruce. Tim deserves better.”

The second Robin left the room before the billionaire could reply. 

 

To Jason’s dismay, Bruce was waiting for him in the fourth-floor library when he returned for the night. The man sat in the dark brown chair next to the couch with his foot propped up on the table, thumbing through Jason’s collection of books without reading anything. 

“I know it’s easy to get confused, but Tim prefers the first-floor study,” Jason stated. 

Bruce nodded. “I’m taking Tim to the photography exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts next Wednesday. I wanted to talk to you.” 

Jason forced himself not to tense up. The world was slowly fading to green. “If this is about relocating me to the League prison, I’m not interested.” 

There was a loud sigh. “We will have to address what happened, but that’s not why I’m here.” 

Taking a breath to clear his vision, Jason nodded. 

“I wanted to thank you. I had not realized how remiss I had been to my duties to Tim. You have a good heart, Jason,” Bruce said like he was reading the latest sports headline. 

Jason snorted in disbelief. “You climbed three flights of stairs to thank me?” 

Bruce didn’t reply, and Jason let it go. It was hardly the craziest thing the man had done out of misplaced guilt. 

An uncomfortable silence rose up between them. Jason fought not to squirm. He was not a street kid who had just broken a vase worth more than his life. 

“Okay, well. You’re welcome.” 

The billionaire didn’t move. 

“Interesting reading material,” Bruce commented as looked at the stack of various religious and mythological literature Jason had collected. 

And it set something off in Jason. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.” 

Bruce nodded again before grabbing his crutches. “I’m sure Alfred would be happy to discuss it with you.” 

Uncomfortable, Jason switched topics. “What are your plans for me?” 

Bruce stood with his weight rested on his crutches. “I can’t be the one to make that decision.” 

“So what? There’s going to be a trial?” 

“The League Founders will discuss it.” 

“I want to be there.” 

The billionaire froze. “I don’t–”

“Let me rephrase. I’m going to be there.” 

Bruce nodded and left the room.

 

Two days later, Red Hood and Batman were about to leave for the Watchtower when Nightwing joined their group. 

“No,” Batman growled. 

Nightwing crossed his arms. “If Jason is going, I’m going.” 

“This doesn’t concern you.” 

“Yeah, it does. I should be on trial as well.” 

Jason interrupted their staring contest. “No, you shouldn’t.” 

“Attempted murder or at the very least manslaughter,” Dick stated. “Either I come with you or I turn myself in to GCPD.” 

Batman growled and walked through the Zeta tubes. Nightwing always did have a special way of pissing daddy dearest off. 

Torn between wanting to throttle Dick and wanting to hug him, Jason replied, “You’re an idiot.” 

Nightwing grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH! Sorry for the delay! I had computer issues last week. Then this week I struggled with depression, so if this chapter it's up to par with my others. I apologize. I almost didn't get this out today, but this has been a great coping mechanism for me, and I'm so incredibly grateful for all the support. So yeah, I needed to get this out for me. 
> 
> For my readers who also struggle, some days the fight is harder. But it's always worth fighting. 
> 
> So I'm not a huge Harry Potter fan, but I figured Jason would be. I've read the books, but I think there is a lot of other great fantasy literature out there. BUT I have a ton of Slytherin pride. I know most people put Tim in Ravenclaw, but then I read a pin that discussed the fact that Tim pursued Batman until he got to be Robin and how that was a Slytherin thing, and I've been sold on it ever since. Tim is ambitious, shrewd, cunning, and achievement-oriented. He's a total Slytherin. lol.
> 
> AND the paragraph about the tea is dedicated to Northoftheroad, who was the only reviewer who commented on how disgusting passion fruit and peppermint would be. I dunno...kids like weird things. lol


	27. Chapter 26: Clark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clark makes a deal with the devil.

Superman touched down lightly in the Oval Office. The flags in the office waved at his entrance. Stealth was not his strong suit, so he moved too fast for cameras too catch instead. Outside the window he had just flown through, he saw the clouds covering the moon, providing an ominous feel to the meeting. Or perhaps that was just his nerves. His actions tonight would have far-reaching consequences. 

“Superman,” President Katz greeted. Her blonde curls framed her face in a loose but attractive style. Her countenance suggested nothing of weariness and even the wrinkles around her light blue eyes highlighted her wisdom, not her exhaustion. “I assume your request for a meeting at this hour concerns a matter of dire importance.” 

Technically, no. Clark had wanted to avoid the media storm that would surround Superman’s surprise visit to the White House. 

“I need a favor,” Superman offered. 

The President offered no sign of surprise or anything really. Her immobile face reminded him a bit of Bruce. After a four count of staring at him, she leaned forward in her chair, elbows resting on the desk. 

“You’re owed many favors for your continued protection of the American people,” she told him. “But you’ve always insisted on refusing them. What happened?” 

“It has come to the League’s attention that there was something missing from the UN Charter,” he told her. “We have no way to prosecute or detain members of our order who ignore our values and commitment.” 

This time she blinked, and Superman knew he had caught her off guard. “You’re asking for a court system?” 

“Americans are guaranteed a fair trial, due process, and a jury of their peers. It would be impossible to find a civilian court to produce an adequate jury of peers that would understand the realities of a League member’s existence.” Clark hoped that statement didn’t sound too rehearsed.

“You want to change the UN Charter now? After the Reach debacle and the world discovering the Watch Tower?” President Angela Katz shook her head. “Your timing couldn’t be worse.” 

Clark had prepared for this argument. “I disagree. The League has proven itself, once again, to be on the side of humanity. The Reach Invasion and their defeat highlight our need. We cannot allow fear of public scrutiny prevent us from following our need to uphold justice.” 

“Wait. Are you saying that a member of the League broke laws during the invasion?” 

“No,” Superman replied hastily. 

President Katz’s eyebrows rose. Yeah, that was a bit of an overreaction. 

Clark took a deep breath and tried again. “You are aware of Blue Beetle’s involvement with the Reach and how it was discovered he was under heavy mind control.” 

She nodded. 

“He wasn’t even put on trial, but if the question had come up if he had truly been mind-controlled. Would a civilian police force and court system have been able to handle it?” Superman argued. 

President Katz nodded again. She stared directly at him. Her gaze unnerved the Man of Steel. “I can see the logic in that argument, but I’m not convinced the public would agree. Gordon Godfrey will cause a riot.” 

Unfortunately, the President was right. Even though the sorry excuse for a reporter, who didn’t even bother with simple fact checking, had been wrong about the Reach, his popularity had not decreased. People were willing to believe anything, but he had come prepared for the argument. Batman had finally rubbed off him on the importance of planning for contingencies. 

Superman placed a manila folder on her desk. Sliding it over, he said, “I arranged for a reporter friend of mine to have an exclusive. This will be released before Godfrey gets wind of the deal.” 

She scanned the document, set it down, and folded her hands. “This is very well written. Who does Kent write for?” 

“He used to work for _The Daily Planet_ , but he’s now a freelance reporter,” Clark informed her. He didn’t own his company; he couldn’t just vanish for six months and expect to keep his job. Perry had laughed at him when he asked for his job back. 

For a long minute, the President of the United States said nothing. Superman did not push, and he did not fidget, though he did hover a few inches off the ground. 

“This is a big ask, Superman.” She broke the silence. “But you and the Justice League have saved the world for destruction multiple times.” President Katz paused again. “I’ll push for the recommendations with the United Nations.” 

Superman nodded and landed back on the floor gently. “Thank you. I owe you one.” 

“No, your proposal is just and fair. My part as a diplomat for your goals is a small repayment of what the American people owe you,” President Katz informed him. “Now, if there’s nothing else,” she said, rising. 

“Actually,” Clark began, and he had to fight from bringing his hand up to rub his neck. That would surely ruin Superman’s reputation as a Man of Steel. “There’s something else.” 

President Katz raised one eyebrow but didn’t comment further, nor did she sit back down. 

“This is more of a personal favor,” Superman stated, feet rising slightly off the ground. “I need a,” he paused. Bruce was going to kill him. “Pardon,” he finished.

She sat down again. This time her breathing pattern changed. “For who?” The question was clipped. 

“Red Hood.”

“The criminal who has terrorized Gotham’s inner city?” 

Bruce was going to murder him. “He wasn’t completely in control of his actions.” 

“Another mind control case?” 

“Not exactly.” 

“I do not have time to play politics with you, Superman. Speak clearly or get out of my office,” the President said. 

“He was the second Robin.” He was a dead man walking. Bruce would never forgive him for this. 

“The one that died?” 

Superman nodded. “He was resurrected by unfortunate means that caused a raging madness. He’s in League custody now, and he’ll receive treatment. He shouldn’t have to pay for his crimes, no more than I did after the red kryptonite fiasco.” 

President Katz shook her head. “That story is unbelievable. People don’t just rise from the dead.”

“I thought you were a Christian, ma’am.” 

She glared at him. Perhaps that had been pushing it too far. “No, I’m sorry. But I can’t do this. You will hand this terrorist over to GCPD to handle his crimes.” She froze. “This is why you want the charter changed.” 

“In part, yes,” Clark agreed. “But this is hardly the first insane story the public has had trouble swallowing. It’s why your predecessor gave me a full pardon for the crimes I committed while influenced by red kryptonite.” 

“He wasn’t reelected,” she stated calmly. 

He gave her a bitter smile. “You’re not up for reelection, but I understand that you need something in return.” He pulled a lead container out of his pocket and dropped it on the desk. “10 grams of kryptonite for the pardon.” 

President Katz went quiet again. She traced the outline of the box with her fingers. “The government has wanted a source of kryptonite for a long time.” Her manicure nails tapped the top of the box. 

“Yes, the announcement of the pardon will be buried in your successful acquisition of the substance and your petition to the United Nations,” Clark argued. 

“This is a dangerous game you are playing.” She stared at him. “Why are you doing this?” 

“For a friend.” 

President Angela Katz scrutinized the Man of Steel. “Batman doesn’t know you’re here, does he?” 

Clark stammered. 

“It really is the second Robin.” She shook her head. “You can have your pardon. But Superman, I will continue to protest the use of child superheroes. The world will know who the Red Hood is.” 

Superman nodded and flew out the window. Batman would murder him slowly, but at least, Bruce wouldn’t lose another son. 

 

After Zetaing to the Watch Tower, Clark landed in the meeting room. Diana, Barry, Hal, Arthur, and J’ohn were seated in the tall chairs around the u-shaped table. Nightwing leaned against the wall behind Batman. One leg bent, so his foot was flat against the wall. Red Hood stood next to him with his arms crossed. Dinah entered a second behind him. 

“This meeting is for founders only,” Batman said. 

Black Canary gave him an unimpressed look and sat down. 

“As the current leader of our League, Black Canary deserves a seat at this table,” Wonder Woman said as she nodded in greeting to the other woman. 

“Let’s get started then.” 

“Before you guys determine our future,” Nightwing interrupted. “You might want to hear this news report coming out of Gotham.” 

Pressing a few buttons on his glove, Dick projected Gotham’s news channel onto the wall, where the governor of New Jersey was finishing a speech. 

“No one should be punished for protecting themselves against criminals. The Joker proved himself to be the worst of humanity; therefore, I am ordering a halt to the investigation surrounding the Joker’s death and offering a full pardon to whoever protected themselves. Citizens of Gotham, you do not need to live in terror of the worst of humanity!” 

The crowds shouted at the announcement. Batman shut the projection off. His jaw was clenched. 

“Given this new development, there’s no reason for Nightwing to remain,” Batman stated. 

Dick glared at his father. “I’m staying.” 

“Nightwing,” Batman growled. 

“As fun as the family drama is,” Dinah interrupted. “We need to begin. Nightwing can stay.” 

Superman cleared his throat. “I have news.” He handed the pardon to Black Canary. “Red Hood’s been pardoned as well.” 

“What?!” Red Hood exploded. 

Bruce’s jaw clenched harder. Superman was surprised his jaw didn’t break. “What did you do?” 

Diana watched the interactions carefully. Too diplomatic to make a hasty move. Dinah scanned the paper. Hal and Barry whispered to one another. Arthur curled his hand tightly around his trident. J’ohn stared at the others. Dick was the only one who didn’t react. 

“What. Did. You. Do.” 

Clark swallowed the lump in his throat. “I spoke with President Katz and explained the situation.” 

“Angela Katz would not have given a known terrorist a pardon,” Diana countered. 

“Hey! Watch who you’re calling a terrorist!” 

Nightwing elbowed Red Hood in the gut, cutting off his complaint. 

“I struck a deal,” Superman reported. 

Bruce was fuming. Clark could hear his escalated heart rate. He knew this would happen, but he still didn’t feel prepared. Hal leaned back in his chair. He was far too entertained by the current exchange. Barry kicked him under the table. 

“What was the deal?” J’ohn asked. 

Taking a deep breath, Superman replied, “I traded 10 grams of kryptonite for the pardon.” 

“You what?!” Jason exclaimed. 

“That was not a decision you should have undertaken alone, Clark,” Diana chided. 

“Where did you even get kryptonite?” Asked Barry. 

Knocking his chair over, Batman’s fury turned towards his eldest. “What did you do?” 

Nightwing didn’t budge an inch. “What you wouldn’t. I protected my family.” 

“At what cost?” Bruce yelled. “If Luthor’s candidate wins the election this year, you’ve signed Clark’s death warrant.” 

“Enough,” Canary screeched, forcing most in the room to cover their ears. “We are taking a recess. We will return when cooler heads can prevail.” 

Batman threw one more glare at the Superman before storming out of the room. 

“Nightwing, Hood, your presence will not be needed when we resume,” Dinah stated. 

Red Hood tried to argue, but Nightwing pulled him out of the room. Clark heard Dick whisper, “Let’s go, Leather Head.” 

“That’s NOT my name,” Jason hissed back. 

Clark knew they wouldn’t get far. He had told Connor that the two would be here. His clone had been less than pleased that Dick hadn’t informed either M’gann or himself that Jason was alive. Connor and M’gann were waiting to speak with them away from prying eyes. 

“We will resume in one hour,” Dinah stated. 

Most of the Leaguers left the room. Wonder Woman approached him. Her face set in a look of disapproval. Her hands rested on her hips. 

“You should not have taken this action on your own,” she stated. “We have a League for a reason.” 

“I know.” Clark swallowed. He avoided the warrior’s eyes. “I couldn’t let him lose Jason again.” 

Diana placed her hand on Clark’s shoulder. When he looked at her, the woman’s face had softened. “I understand, but he won’t.” 

Superman nodded. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Hope you enjoyed this. Any guesses as to why Jason is so upset? How'd y'all like the politicking of this chapter? Were you expecting that? I'd love to hear your views.
> 
> Unfortunately, we all know Luther's candidate won in America in 2016. :( 
> 
> I wasn't expecting to write from Clark's POV, but it just fit so well. I'm debating who should be the next chapter, so if you have a strong opinion let m know. It'll probably be Babs, Timmers, M'gann or Connor. M'gann would definitely be the most stretching for me. 
> 
> Finally, thank you all for the sweet comments. I had one concerned reviewer, so I thought I would address that. I do struggle with depression and anxiety, but I'm safe. I was suicidal for a long time, but I know that my life is so worth living. I'm loved by a whole lot of people and the creator of the universe, and I finally know that. I've learned to love myself and life most days, but my mental illness didn't just disappear. Some days are worse than others, but I have a strong support system, and I'm grateful for all of you in fanfic land. I'm not alone. 
> 
> But to anyone who struggles and feels alone, I'm always happy to listen, but I'd guess you'd have loved ones, who care a whole lot as well.
> 
> Much love,  
> ~Lightsider


	28. Chapter 27: M'Gann

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which M'gann takes on the Lazarus Pit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for graphic depiction of a corpse and more violence than I typically write.

You didn’t need superhearing to hear Jason’s and Dick’s argument, although the emotions the two projected were much louder to M’gann. She tried not to read the emotions of others without permission, but the two former Robins were just so loud. The hallway filled with anger, loathing, guilt, and the ever-present darkness that hung to Dick like a storm cloud. 

Connor still harbored anger regarding Dick and his inability to tell the truth, but every time M’gann was in the same room with their friend, she couldn’t maintain her anger. Her heart poured with overwhelming compassion. Dick’s depression and stress were a physical barrier to the rest of his mind, and M’gann couldn’t be angry when all she wanted to do was wrap Dick in blankets and feed him cookies. 

M’gann and Connor turned the corner and found Nightwing and Jason with some weird red helmet arguing. Loudly. The words washed over her as the mental anguish bombarded her mind. The pain of Dick’s depression and darkness hit her as always, but Jason’s mental presence had a strange green tint that felt vile. She suppressed a shudder. How did they live like that? 

Creating a barrier in her own mind, M’gann approached the pair. She threw herself at Jason. He caught her, but he stiffened at the contact. She didn’t care. Jason. Her little brother was alive. Tears poured from her eyes. 

“Jason,” she cried. 

He finally relaxed and rubbed her back. “Yeah, it’s good to see you too, Miss.” 

She found her voice unable to express herself through tears. She probed gently through her mind, daring to brave the green barrier. 

_Jason._

He froze for a full second, and M’gann regretted breaching the barrier. 

_Hey Miss._

She pulled back and smiled at him. 

_Why?_ She asked, sending a mental picture of his red helmet. 

There was a rapid increase of terror and anger as M’gann was thrown from Jason’s mind. 

The next thing she knew, her head was in Connor’s lap, and Jason, without his helmet but with a domino peered down at her. She could sense Dick nearby, but he wasn’t in her line of sight. 

“What happened?” 

“That’s what I want to know.” She could feel Connor’s growl as he spoke. 

“I don’t know,” Jason cried, throwing his hands in the air. 

“That’s not good enough. You could have hurt M’gann.” 

M’gann sent a burst of calm towards her boyfriend and stood up. “It’s fine, Connor. I’m okay.” 

She placed the palm of her hand on Jason’s cheek. “It’s good to see your handsome face again.” 

She felt the heat from Jason before she could see the blush. Behind Jason, she heard Dick laugh. 

“Still got a way with the ladies, Jason,” his brother teased. 

Jason glared at him in response. M’gann stepped back and grabbed Connor’s hand. She offered him a reassuring squeeze. 

“What happened?” She questioned. “I thought Superman had guaranteed Jason’s pardon. Why were you two arguing?” 

Dick turned pale, and Jason glared at her. 

“You knew too?!” Jason exclaimed. “Did no one think to ask what I wanted?” 

That wasn’t the response she was expecting, but the anger coming from Connor, who released her hand, and the shame coming from Dick didn’t allow her to process the answer. 

“Yeah,” Connor began, glaring at Dick. “Superman thought that I should have a say in the exchange.” 

“Connor, I’m sor–”

“Save it.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Dick’s face turned ghost white, which stood out in strong contrast to his black domino mask. Jason nudged him and whispered something M’gann couldn’t hear. The anger and wrongness M’gann felt from Jason faded as he offered comfort to his brother. That was interesting. 

“Well, at least Batgirl was successful in getting your pardon, Nightwing,” M’gann blurted into the silence. 

Dick turned to face her. “Babs did that?” 

“Hello Megan! That was supposed to be a surprise. Don’t tell her I told you, please,” she said. 

Actually, Barbara hadn’t planned on telling Nightwing about her part in sending multiple surveys and campaigns suggesting that the public would look favorably on a candidate who pardoned those involved with the Joker’s death. M’gann didn’t understand the reasons Barbara gave, but then again M’gann didn’t understand much about the relationship between Batgirl and Nightwing. Those two were hearts in their eyes for each other, and neither seemed to realize it. 

“Huh,” Dick replied, scratching the back of his next. 

Jason pushed his brother. “Go on, Romeo.” 

Nightwing offered one of his performer smiles. “Nah, I got something to do first.” He turned to Connor with a serious expression. “Superboy, can we talk?” 

Connor continued to glare at the original Robin. 

Go. M’gann pushed. 

Connor grunted and left the room; Nightwing followed after him. 

“So,” Jason drawled. “You and Connor are still a thing?” 

“Yes,” M’gann replied, but turned the conversation to what was puzzling her. “What happened to you?” 

She could feel his brain’s natural defenses closing. 

“I died. Then I got better,” he replied. 

She ignored his tone. Jason was always bluster with a hidden heart of gold. She floated next to him. 

“There’s a foreign presence in your brain,” she stated. 

Jason leaned his body weight against the door. 

“Yeah,” he admitted ruefully, staring up at the ceiling. “The Lazarus Pit.” 

“Lazarus Pit?” 

“Evil green pool that’s owned by a demon and brings people back to life.” 

M’gann suppressed another shudder. “Do you want it gone?” 

Jason’s head snapped to face her. “You could do that?” 

“I don’t know,” M’gann hesitated. “But I could try.” 

“Do it.” 

She wavered. “I don’t know, Jason. This will be dangerous. Maybe, we should get Batman’s permission?” 

The anger, vile and hatred that poured off her little brother shocked M’gann. Bruce and Jason had always been so close. There were even times Dick struggled with jealousy about the closeness of the pair. What had happened? 

“Batman stays out of my business.” 

M’gann still wasn’t sure. 

“Please M’gann,” he pleaded, and his voice cracked like he was 15 again. 

She couldn’t say no to the young boy who hadn’t deserved his fate. None of them had protected Jason then. The Martian wouldn’t make the same mistake again. 

“Okay, but let’s go to my room. It’ll be more comfortable.” 

 

Once they were in her room, M’gann crossed her legs on her bed and instructed Jason to remove his domino. His eyes were now a swirl of blue-green mist. The color was stunning, but it left the telepath feeling as if gravity started pulling upwards instead of down.  
She took a deep breath and asked Jason to lay down with his head in her lap. 

“Try not to resist me.” 

Jason nodded once.

Leaning over the teenager, M’gann placed her fingers next to his temple and entered his mind. 

M’gann found herself in an endless green fog. She couldn’t see anything else, and the weight of the fog made it feel as though it was difficult to breathe. 

In the distance, she could hear crying. She followed the sound until she found a young Jason, wearing jeans with holes in the knees and a too large, dark blue, dirty sweatshirt. He could not have been more than eight. He sat with his head tucked into his knees, crying. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” 

Young Jason stood up and fiercely wiped his eyes. “Who’re you?” 

“I’m a friend.” 

Th boy crossed his arms. “I don’t have any friends.” 

M’gann resisted to urge to smother this child in a hug. “Well, I’d like to be your first if you’d let me.” 

The young Jason eyed her critically. “Okay,” he finally said. “But if you do anything to hurt my mom, I’ll hurt you.” 

“Is your mom here?” 

Water pooled in the boy’s blue eyes. “No, no one’s here.” 

Unable to stop herself, M’gann scooped the little boy up into a hug. “Oh Sweetie, I’m here.” 

He cried into her shirt until it was soaked with his tears. When he had finished crying, he pulled away and looked at her. 

“You’re here to fight the bad man, aren’t you?” 

Wondering what or who the bad man was, M’gann told him, “I’m here to help you.” 

Jason kicked at the dirt. “I don’t like the bad man. He ruined everything.” 

“Who’s the bad man?” 

Before the young boy could reply, an older form of Jason appeared. The young Jason ran behind M’gann. 

“The one who ruined us,” the fifteen-year-old Jason replied. 

M’gann cried when she saw him. Batman hadn’t let anyone see the remains of Jason after the horrific explosion, and the Martian now understood why. Jason’s pale face was covered in black and blue bruises. His right eye was swollen shut. The white of his domino mask shattered leaving small cuts along his left. Blood matted into his hair. 

The dark red of his Robin costume turned almost black. His right glove and the sleeve of his right arm burned into his flesh. She was glad she didn’t share Connor’s ability of x-ray vision. She was afraid of what she might find if she could. 

“Jason!” She cried, tears blurring her vision. Her frame shook with the tears. 

“Oh, so you did miss me,” the corpse sneered. 

Eight-Year old Jason whimpered behind her, clutching her shirt. 

M’gann took a deep breath. In. Out. She could not afford to lose herself to her grief. Not here. Not now. Jason was alive. All of this was in the past. 

“Of course, we missed you!” She declared. 

The corpse laughed, spitting bright crimson blood into the green mist. His white teeth covered in the red substance. “Funny, no one noticed when I left.” 

“You were with Batman. He never mentioned you were missing,” the Martian argued. 

The green mist tightened around her. She struggled to catch her breath. Falling to her knees, she forced calm and peace into the mist until it left her. 

When she looked up, young Jason stood protectively in front of her. 

“Leave her alone,” he hollered, fists clenched. “She isn’t him.” 

Fifteen-year-old Jason laughed. “No. You cling to her. Like you still cling to _him_ ,” he spat. “Look at me! This is what he’ll do to you!” 

“Bruce didn’t do that to us!” A thirteen-year-old Jason, wearing his Gotham Academy uniform, defended. “He gave us a home and an opportunity to be better!” 

The corpse flicked blood onto the pristine private school uniform. “And look where that got us. Dead.” 

“It wasn’t his fault!” Thirteen-year-old Jason argued. “We ran off!” 

“He was supposed to be the World’s Greatest Detective! How did he not notice?!” The oldest Jason bared his blood coated teeth. “I’ll tell you how. He never cared!” 

“That’s not true!” 

The youngest Jason grabbed M’gann’s hand and clutched it. The telepath didn’t enter Jason’s mind to sort out his issues with Bruce. She needed to find the root of the Lazarus Pit. 

“Jason, I just want to help you. Please let me help,” she petitioned. 

“Help?” The corpse laughed again. “Do you want to help this?” 

“No, don’t!” The younger teenager cried. 

The smallest of the Jasons clutched her hand and whimpered. 

The green mist shifted until she was in a drug warehouse. Cocaine bags were scattered across filthy tables. The fluorescent lights flickered and hummed. A man she didn’t recognize scooted desperately away from something. His head was shaking, his body trembled, and he pleaded with someone to let him live. 

It was then that M’gann noticed the figure with the leather motorcycle jacket, red helmet, and sharp knife. M’gann felt sick. 

“No,” she gasped. 

Jason’s corpse flared into existence beside her. 

“Oh yes, is _this_ what you want to help?” He sneered. 

The Jason in the motorcycle jacket and red helmet leaned over the man. “I have a message to deliver, and you happen to be the messenger.”

Placing one foot on the man’s chest, Jason grabbed his hair, exposing his neck. “It’s nothing personal.” Blood squirted onto Jason’s brown jacket and across his helmet as her little brother dug his knife across the man’s jugular and through his neck. The man’s blood pooled on the ground. 

M’gann dropped her face into her hands and sobbed. That couldn’t be Jason. Jason would never. He couldn’t. 

“STOP IT! Leave her alone!” 

The telepath barely heard the surrounding argument as she tried to swallow her despair. She had a job to do. 

After fighting herself back into awareness, the two younger Jasons stood between her and Jason’s corpse as a protective barrier. 

The bloody and broken body of Jason sneered at her. “Now, you understand who the bad man is.” 

M’gann took a deep breath. She would help Jason. No one deserved this. Standing firm, she smiled at the younger pair. 

“Well, do you still want to help us? We did that seven more times. I could show you,” he taunted. 

“That wasn’t you, Jason. I want to help you if you’ll let me.” 

Shame engulfed the green mist. The two younger Jasons pulsed with it, but the older Jason laughed. 

“Oh, it was us. Lazarus Pit or not, it was definitely us.” 

Rather than argue or think about those implications, M’gann placed one hand on each of the younger Jasons shoulders. She smiled at them. 

“I’m going to help you,” she repeated firmly. 

Thirteen-year-old Jason gave her one of his rare true smiles, not the cocky grins he used most often. Eight-year-old Jason threw his arms around her things. She rubbed his back and smiled at the thirteen-year-old. 

The corpse was too bloodied and swollen to show emotion, but she felt his surprise. 

“You’ll fail,” he promised. 

A younger M’gann might have feared failure. Before her mistake with Kaldur she might have hesitated, but now. M’gann knew who she was, and she knew her strength. 

“No, I won’t.” 

All three Jasons disappeared as the green mist surrounded her. It attempted to pull her apart, but M’gann pushed the mist away from her immediate vicinity. The mist hissed. A tendril reached from behind her to encircle her neck. M’gann turned invisible ad the strand disappeared. She pushed again, and the mist fled away from her, but it didn’t leave. 

There was only one way to do this. M’gann sat cross legged on the ground. She took a deep breath. Then summoned the mist to her. She called to it, promising escape and freedom. It came like a serpent after a mouse. 

Green tendrils grabbed her wrists and held her as the mist saturated her body. Anger and cruel thoughts flooded her. 

_Why are you helping Jason anyway? He never cared about you._

_This is Dick’s little brother. Dick deserves to suffer after all the pain his lies caused you._

_Batman never respected you. Hurt his child. Make him suffer._

_Connor doesn’t love you. You should crush his heart before he crushes yours again._

“NO!” M’gann screamed, red eyes bursting open. She gathered all of the green mist and the tendrils, forcing everything into a tight green cube. She shoved all her energy and strength into forcing the mist into the cube. 

She held the green cube in her hands. She concentrated on that green cube. She brought al her strength and fight into that cube. She shoved her love and her light into that cube. 

The cube burst into tiny shards. M’gann was thrown backwards out of Jason’s mind. The last thing she saw before the darkness took her were Jason’s blue eyes staring at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Sorry about the delay. My social calendar filled quite quickly this week, and then last week I had so many Steve Rogers feels. Infinity War stopped my heart, and I jumped over to read some Marvel fanfiction for a bit.  
>  Another reason this took so long is that I started writing this from Connor’s perspective, but then I realized that it needed to be from M’gann’s to make the story make sense as I was always planning to have her take on the Lazarus Pit. It makes for a better to story to allow the reader to see that. I hope you enjoyed her. I’m not sure I completely understand M’gann, but I hope I wrote her well enough.  
>  And I really hoped you enjoyed the trip into Jason’s brain! That was fun for me to right!  
>  But I’m back, and the last three chapters are all planned. You can expect a beloved character from the Batman comics but not in YJ to make an appearance soonish.


	29. Chapter 28: Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tim is still trying to be everything for everyone.

Tim played the recording for a third time. 

“Tim!” His mom greeted. Her hair was windblown, and dirt was smattered across her forehead. He couldn’t see much in the background as her face covered most of the screen. “I’ve missed you so much. This is the first time we’ve managed to find a reliable internet connection.” 

Off camera, Tim heard his dad snort. “What she means is, she threatened to castrate our local guides if they didn’t find a way for her to get a message to her son.” 

Janet shot a look off camera. “Ignore him, Tiny Tim. He is right about one thing. We’ve been gone too long. How is it already August?” 

“That’s the way a calendar works, dear.” 

Tim smiled. His mother was never the best with time, especially when it tried to interrupt her work. He inherited that trait from her. 

His mother chose to ignore his father’ comment. “I have good news and bad news.” There was a pause. “Okay, I know we were supposed to be back by October, but we’re really on to something here. Realistically, it’s going to take us until late November to finish. BUT. If we stay that long, I’m going to cancel the China dig and all future digs for 2017. We’ll have a whole year together. Your dad will become more involved with his company, and I’ll…I don’t know. I’ll take up pottery or something.” 

There was another snort off-camera. 

“Tim,” his mother continued. “We would really like to stay and finish this dig, but I know we’ve already been gone five months.” Her face looked pained. “You say the word, and we’ll come back tonight. Either way, you have all my love, Tiny Tim!” 

“Jack, say hello,” Janet called, switching the camera, so Tim saw his father. His father looked the same as he always did, managing to look clean despite his living conditions. A notepad of paper rested against his knee, forever a rebel against the technological age. Somehow Jack Drake managed to make cargo pants and archaeological gear regal. His dad certainly had a talent that Tim wished he had inherited. 

“Tim,” Jack greeted. 

“Tell him you love him.” 

“He knows I love him.” 

There were a 1.3 second pause. Tim could easily picture the look his mother was giving her husband. 

“Tim, I love you,” he stated. 

Janet flipped the camera back to facing her. She shook her head as she glared at her husband before returning her attention to the video. “Alright, if this gets much longer, I’m never going to be able to get it to send. We’ll wait until we hear from you. If we don’t hear in a week, we’re coming home. Just let me know what you want, Tim. Okay, I have to go. I love you!” She blew a kiss towards the camera. 

A whole year with his parents. The idea was hard to fathom. His parents hadn’t been present for an entire year since Tim was eight years old. It was after all how he was able to trail Batman and take photos of the caped crusader during his nightly adventures. If his parents came home, would that interfere with Robin? Even when his parents were home, they never cared how Tim spent his free time. His mom would find some new passion project that she would throw all of her energy into and his dad would excel for his company and read about ancient history in the evening. 

His parents being home shouldn’t interfere too much with is vigilante hobby. He would still be able to sneak out of the house. Plus if his parents came home now there would be no way to hide the injury to his shoulder. Decision made, he took off his sling and turned on his camera. Unsure of how reliable of an internet connection his parents had, Tim kept his message brief.

“Hi Mom and Dad,” Tim greeted with a smile. “I can’t wait to read Dad’s notes on your latest dig. Things are going great here, so it’s totally fine if you want to wait until November.” He paused for a brief moment before adding. “Love you both.” 

There was a knock at his bedroom door. Tim put his sling back on before opening the door to reveal Alfred holding two crutches. 

“If you want your shoulder to heal properly, you’ll not remove your sling, Master Timothy,” Alfred stated. 

What. How. 

“Close your mouth, Master Timothy. You’ll attract flies.” 

Alfred set the crutches down and proceeded to smooth out the tangled strap of the sling, answering Tim’s unasked question. 

“Now if you would promise to keep your sling on, I’d like to ask a favor of you. It would appear that Master Bruce has forgotten his crutches. Would you be so kind as to deliver them for me?” Alfred asked. 

“He’s not going to accept these as Batman,” Tim argued. 

“Then you can remind, Master Bruce, that if he expects his children to admit when they need assistance, then he must set an example,” Alfred clipped. 

Tim nodded. He wasn’t an idiot. If there was an argument between Bruce and Alfred, you took Alfred’s side. 

“I’m including you in that statement as well Master Timothy,” Alfred stated before heading down the hall to finish his tasks. 

The young Robin did not understand what Alfred meant by his retreating comment. Nevertheless, he gathered the crutches and headed to the Batcave. 

 

At the Watch Tower, Tim soon discovered that the Founder’s Meeting had come to an abrupt end because Batman stormed out of the meeting. Great. Not only did he need to give Batman his crutches, he had to do it while Bruce was undoubtedly angered about something. His life was not fair. 

Shifting the weight of the crutches, Robin headed for the residential wing of the tower. Most likely, Bruce would be in there sulking. Tim knocked on Batman’s door and waited for a response. When none came, he knocked again. 

“I’m not in the mood, Superman,” Batman called through the door. 

Robin paused. He could count on one hand the times Bruce had misidentified them and all but one of them was when the older man had called him Jason. Batman hardly made such obvious mistakes. 

Tim coughed. “It’s Robin,” he stated. 

A minute passed before Batman opened the door with a grunt. Noticing the crutches his protégé was carrying the man retreated into the room. Robin followed before the door was slammed in his face. 

“Agent A asked me to deliver these,” he stated, staying close to the door to keep strategic retreat as an option. 

“No.” 

Batman’s refusal would be more logical if Robin couldn’t clearly see that the man settled his weight only on one leg. Since getting in a fight with Batman was pretty much a death sentence unless you were Alfred, Superman, or Nightwing, Robin neglected to comment on the obvious tell. Instead, he chose to relay Agent A’s message. 

“Agent A said that if you refuse to acknowledge when you need assistance, you can hardly expect Nightwing and Hood too.” 

Batman’s jaw clenched. Tim was no stranger to Bruce’s anger. Half of his apprenticeship, after all, had been dealing with an angry and grieving Batman. Batman’s fury was why Tim was Robin. It would take more than a clenched jaw for him to run away from an assigned task. 

There was a shift across Batman’s face that Tim could not read. 

“Alright, leave them along the wall,” Bruce said, pushing back his cowl. 

Tim blinked. 

Then he blinked again. 

Bruce stared at him. 

“Okay, well, I have a meeting,” Robin said, unconsciously scuffing his shoe against the floor. 

Nodding, the man replied, “I’m glad you’re taking advantage of the resources available to you.” There was a hesitant pause. “That’s good.” 

Tim wondered if he stayed any longer would the room burst into spontaneous flames to save them from the awkwardness. Dick would have some colorful commentary or illustration to describe them, but all Tim felt was an intense desire to not be the center of Bruce’s gaze. 

“Um, okay,” Tim rambled. “That’s good. I better go.” 

He exited the room before Batman could call him back. 

 

Sitting in the oversized red chair, Tim scrunched in on himself. Dinah smiled at him. Her posture was as opposite as Tim’s as possible. Tim recognized it from a school forum last year on attentive listening. No part of her body was crossed. She leaned slightly forward, and her attention was focused on him. He knew it was designed to make someone feel like they were being listened to, but mostly, it just made him have an intense desire to run away. 

“Robin, you can relax,” Black Canary encouraged, offering him a small smile. “I’m not going to bite you.” 

_No. You’re just going to make me talk about things I don’t want to talk about. Why did I think this was a good idea?_

“Would you like something to drink?” 

Tim remained silent. This was a bad idea.

Black Canary stared at Robin. He squirmed in his seat. 

“Perhaps, you could explain why you requested the meeting?” She asked. 

“I don’t know,” Tim stated. 

Canary leaned farther away from Robin, which unclenched something in his gut. 

“I’ve heard you are an exceptional intelligent young man,” she prodded. “There must have been something that prompted this meeting. You seemed to be handling the invasion well last we spoke.” 

Tim sighed. He was already here. 

“I don’t know what to do.” 

“About what?” 

He laughed. It was a hollow sound. 

“Anything. I became Robin to help people, but I’m a mess. Batman. I don’t even know where to start with Batman. I thought Batman needed a Robin, but he definitely doesn’t need me. Nothing I do for Nightwing helps. I’m not enough. Nightwing needs the second Robin, not me. And Red Hood’s been infecting with Pit Madness. I can’t figure out the chemical equation to help remove the devasting side effects from his brain, so I can’t help him either. What am I even doing here?” 

Gulping in air he desperately needed after that tirade, Tim paused long enough to realize he unloaded much more than he originally planned. 

Canary was quiet for a long moment, staring at Robin as he squirmed in his chair. “If I’m hearing you correctly, you feel responsible for the emotional health of Batman, Nightwing, and Red Hood. Is that correct?” 

Tim snorted. “Yes.” 

“Why?”

“I’m Robin.” 

The blonde paused a moment, searching Tim’s face. Uncomfortable, he cast his eyes to the floor. 

“What do you see as the role between mentors and mentees?” She asked. 

Sensing the trap, Tim looked up and replied, “Mentees learn from mentors, but Batman and Robin have a different dynamic. We’re partners.” 

Canary made a noise in her throat. “And how would you describe the relationship between Batman and Robin?” 

Holding her gaze, Tim stated, “Batman needs a Robin.” 

There was a flash of something in Dinah’s eyes. 

“And what does Robin need?” 

_To be better._

Tim dropped his gaze. Aloud, he said, “I don’t know.” 

Silence stretched for an eternity. Tim forgot to count it. Stupid.

“Robin, before our next session, I want you to-“ 

“Next session?” Tim snapped up, cutting the woman off. 

Canary gave him an unimpressed look. “Robin, these emotional issues will destroy you if they are allowed to continue. If you wish to remain on Young Justice, you will complete additional sessions until I believe you have dealt with these issues.” 

“What?” Robin burst, heat rapidly rising to his heat. “This isn’t fair.” 

Keeping her cool, the counselor responded, “Emotional health is no longer an optional component to teenage superhero involvement. We don’t allow anyone into the field with a broken arm, nor do we allow anyone into the field with a compromised emotional state. I’m sure you are intimately familiar with the reasons for these rule changes.” 

_Dick._

It made a certain amount of sense if Dick had been grounded with mandatory therapy, maybe the stupid Amazon mission wouldn’t have happened. 

But still. 

“I’m not suicidal.” 

“I know, Robin, but can you honestly tell me that you value your life and contributions to the team as strongly as you value Batman’s and Nightwing’s?” 

Tim refused to comment on that. 

“Then I will see you next week at the same time. I’ll contact Batman and let him know about the added training regimen,” Canary informed him. “Before our next meeting, I want you to think about your needs, Robin. We all have needs. Acknowledging them does not make us weak.”

Defeated, he nodded. Not only was he the worst Robin Batman had ever had, but now, he was the only one forced into mandatory therapy. He was more of a screw-up, then he thought.

 

After his disaster of a meeting with Canary, Tim headed to one of the training gyms. He wasn’t cleared for physical therapy just yet, but he wanted to learn how to throw batarangs with his less dominant arm more successfully. 

Hoping to have some alone time, Robin headed to one of the less-frequented rooms in the Tower, only to find Superboy pulverizing a reinforced punching bag. The chain holding the bag snapped and the bag flew across the room. 

“What do you want?” Superboy growled. 

“I was just looking for a training room with some privacy,” Robin tried to keep his tone neutral. 

Superboy grunted. “I’m done.” 

“Are you okay?” 

The clone turned on him. “Your brother put M’gann in a coma!”

“What?” 

Connor shook with the force of his emotions, and Tim wondered if it hurt to feel things so strongly. 

“Jason asked M’gann to remove the influence of the Lazarus Pit. Now she’s in a coma,” Connor yelled. 

“Is Jason okay?” 

Connor snorted. “Typical Bats. You only care for your own.” 

Superboy stormed down the hallway. 

Robin called after him, “Wait, Superboy. I didn’t mean-“

But Connor continued his walk down the hall. He knew the clone was most likely going to check on his girlfriend, and he couldn’t do anything for M’gann, so he hunted down Jason. 

He found Jason and Dick on the latter’s bed in the Young Justice residential area. Jason was curled up like an overgrown cat around Dick’s legs, sleeping. There were tear tracks on his face. Dick carded his fingers through the younger man’s hair as he stared off into space himself. 

Tim stood in the doorway, unsure how to proceed at the sight. 

Dick offered him a sad smile and shook his head. Tim exited the room without another word.

Should he go check on M’gann? Tim wasn’t under the impression that his presence would be appreciated. Maybe he’d head there in an hour or so. Or would that just be proving Connor’s point that he didn’t care enough about M’gann? He respected Miss Martian as a capable hero and leader, but the two weren’t exactly close. 

His phone buzzed with a message from Dick. 

_I can hear your overthinking from here._

Tim hesitated before replying. _Do you know if M’gann is okay?_

_M’gann’s tough, but the Pit took a lot out of her._

_Should I go check on her?_

_I don’t think our presence would be appreciated right now._

Before Tim could reply, Dick sent another message. 

_You looked stressed. Go take a break._

Tim rolled his eyes and threw a half-hearted glare at the steel door in between him and his conversation partner. 

“Uh. Robin?” A familiar feminine voice called. 

Turning, he found Cassie behind him. He realized how ridiculous he must look standing in front of Dick’s door staring at his phone for the last several minutes. 

“Hi Cassie,” he greeted. 

Cassie’s blonde hair was held back with a headband, but a few strands had escaped. He imagined brushing them back into place. She was the most beautiful woman Tim had ever seen. Realizing that he was staring at her with his phone still in his hand. Tim pocketed his phone and went over to give her a hug. 

“I’ve missed you. Are you okay?” Cassie asked, returning the hug. 

Tim shrugged and winced at the pain it caused his healing shoulder. “I’ve just been busy. You’re stealth’s gotten better.” 

Robin, at least, hoped it had gotten better, and he hadn’t just hadn’t notice Wonder Girl’s approach. 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Batgirl’s been helping me.” 

Tim smiled at her. 

“Tim, I wanted to talk to you.”

His heart beat faster in his chest. Robin didn’t know much about relationships, but he also knew those words usually preceded a break-up. Although did it even count as a relationship, when he had been so preoccupied with Dick? 

He nodded and Cassie led him into her room. She stood in the center of the room and paced slightly. Her hands made odd jerky movements as if she wasn’t completely sure what to do with them. 

“Tim, I don’t know that this is working out,” she rushed out. “I like you, Tim. That hasn’t changed. But you’re not treating me fairly. I deserve a boyfriend who is actually there. You haven’t responded to a single text of mine in a week and a half. I found out you had been shot from Batgirl. Then Batman had the cave locked down, and I couldn’t make sure you were safe. That’s not fair to me.” 

Tim sighed in defeat. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I haven’t been a good boyfriend.” 

He admired Cassie and loved her enthusiasm and love of life. He enjoyed spending time with her, but he hadn’t been there. 

“I’m sorry, Cass.” 

She looked surprised by the admission. “Okay, well, that’s good,” she stated. “Did you want to fix it, or did you want to break-up?” 

Robin restrained a smile that threatened to overtake him. Cassie didn’t do hesitant well. Affection climbed inside of him. How could he want to break up with someone so beautiful? 

“I don’t want to break-up,” he told her. “But I don’t think I’m going to be good at this.” 

Cassie looked at him, hope bubbling in her expression. “But you’ll try?” 

He bit down on the Yoda quote that threatened to escape. Cassie still hadn’t seen the _Star Wars_ movies. That gave him an idea. 

“Do you feel like watching a movie?” 

Tim was determined to keep that answering smile on her face as long as possible. 

 

After an enjoyable evening watching _A New Hope_ with Cassie, which she loved (He knew he picked a keeper.), Tim headed back to Wayne Manor to update Alfred and allow the older man to check his stitches. 

Alfred declared that everything looked as it should and he should be ready for physical therapy within the next week. Tim headed to his bedroom where a video message from his parents was waiting for him. 

“Tim!” His mom greeted excitedly. “It was so good to hear your voice and see you! Thank you, sweetie, for understanding about the dig. I’m so excited to spend 2017 with you.” She paused and bit her lip. “I think it would be best if you attended boarding school for the fall term. Now, I know you prefer to stay at home, but it would make me feel a lot better if I knew you were safe and taken care of for the next few weeks. Your dad arranged everything and sent the tuition. A driver will pick you up on August 27.” 

His mom’s voice continued talking, but Tim didn’t hear it. Boarding school? No. He hadn’t been to boarding school in years. He hated boarding school. He didn’t fit in with the other kids. How would he be Robin from Maryland?

No. He didn’t want to go to boarding school. He needed to communicate to his parents that he wouldn’t go. He couldn’t go. 

He focused back on his mother’s voice. 

“We’re heading back to the dig site as soon as I finish sending. I’ll try to head back here at least once a month to send a video. Love you, Tiny Tim!” 

No. That wasn’t fair. His parents just decided what his life was going to look like and didn’t even include him in the process. He was old enough to take care of himself. He had been forever. He was _Robin._

Tim needed a plan to avoid that fate, and he needed it yesterday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay in posting this. My grandmother passed away recently. She was not similar to Alfred besides her quick wit, but I loved her as much as the Bat boys love Alfred. However, I am comforted that my beliefs assure me that I will see her again.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed Tim’s chapter and the first look at the Bat Boys in therapy. I admit that I took a ton of liberties with Janet and Jack Drake, but I hope you enjoyed them anyway. Any guesses who may have coached Cass on how to talk to Tim? Lol In the sequel, I hope to give Tim more time but so far I only have a loose sketch for that, so we shall see. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your encouraging comments and feedback. The kudos and comments mean so much to me. 
> 
> Next up: Barbara Gordon stumbles in a new friendship.


	30. Chapter 29: Barbara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Barbara Gordon pulls a Bruce Wayne.

Barbara Gordon took a sip of her now cold coffee. The code she had just finished was using all of the data she had gathered from various newspapers to see if she could ascertain where smash originated from and how it spread. The earliest mention of the drug was a local newspaper in Stockton, CA, where the drug went by purple. She hoped to find a predictable pattern of how it spread from there. 

Allowing the code to run, Batgirl turned her attention to a different monitor. She needed to send a team to Stockton to case warehouses. She brought up a roster of available and active members of YJ. Scanning through the list, she immediately decided Blue Beetle would be a good choice. His scarab would be an asset for this mission. He’d need a reliable leader though. 

The screen went black.

All the screens went black. 

“No, no, no” she muttered as she reached around to check the cords to her monitors. 

“Ahem,” a voice interrupted her. 

Batgirl spun her chair around to observe Artemis sans her huntress attire and Wally West in the Flash’s costume with his cowl down. Why was Wally wearing his uncle’s clothes? Wally didn’t want to be a hero anymore. More importantly, why was he holding a power cord in his hand. 

“What did you do?” She yelled, attempting to stand up, but she tumbled towards the ground instead. 

Wally caught her. She couldn’t feel her legs. That was weird. Why couldn’t she feel her legs? 

Belatedly, she realized she was being rude. Wally caught her. 

“Thanks,” she said as Wally helped her stand up. It didn’t feel like she had legs. Oh. She blinked. Her legs were asleep. She sat back down and started rubbing them to restore circulation. 

“Couldn’t let my future sister-in-law fall on her face,” Wally replied. 

Barbara scrunched her nose in confusion. “You and Dick aren’t brothers.” 

Wally’s answering grin reminded her that she objected to the wrong part of that sentence. 

“I mean,” she clarified. “Dick and I aren’t like that.” 

He patted her arm in response condescendingly, and she remembered she was angry with him. “You unplugged my computers!” She threw a wide punch that he easily dodged. That was embarrassing. She was glad Dick wasn’t here to watch that. His stupid grin and stupid smirking eyes danced in front of her vision. 

“Stupid,” she mumbled. 

There was a snort from her right. Artemins had approached and was standing on her left. 

“As amusing as this is, when’s the last time you slept?” she asked. 

Looking at her scattered coffee cups, Barbara decided counting them was too much work. “I dunno. Doesn’t matter. I need to finish this.” 

“Oh, it very much matters,” a new voice called from the hallway. 

Black Canary stood at the entrance of Barbara’s workstation. She did not look happy. She looked the opposite of happy. 

“You’re right,” Canary answered her. “I am not happy.” 

Oh. She was talking out loud. Dick did that too when he was tired. There was an answering giggle to her right. She glared at Wally. Dick should pick better friends. 

“We had a conversation about limits and burnouts. I thought I had made myself clear,” Canary stated. 

“I can sleep on Saturday,” Batgirl replied testily. “I don’t have plans, but I need to finish this.” 

“It is Saturday,” Artemis told her. “You’ve been in here for 3 days.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yes, oh,” Canary responded. “You are going to bed if I have to tranquilize you.” Quieter, she added, “I swear if Bruce gets another apprentice I’m stepping down.” 

Batgirl felt like she should have been offended, but mostly she was annoyed that Canary would insult her boys like that. There was another giggle. Before she responded to that, Canary gave her a look. 

“Bed. Now.” 

Barbara huffed, but decided she wasn’t foolish enough to fight on this. She was tired. See Dick, she was not as stubborn as him. She could be reasonable.

Artemis and Canary led her to her bedroom. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow. 

 

Waking up was not pleasant. Barbara blinked several times to try to clear the grogginess in her head. How long had she been asleep? She reached blindly for her phone on the nightstand. When the movement was stiffer than normal, she realized she was still dressed as Batgirl. 

Groaning she lit her phone’s screen. 1:23 pm on Sunday. She shot up in bed. That couldn’t be right. Dad never would have let her sleep past church. Struggling to get out of her bed, she ended up on the floor with a bump. 

It was the feel of the cold floor instead of her soft carpet that finally restarted her brain. She was in the Watch Tower, not at home. She had been trying to find the origins of smash before being sent to bed like a toddler, and if it was Sunday, she needed to talk to her dad. 

She picked up her phone. There were six missed calls all from her dad and 13 unread messages. The first five messages were from her dad. 

_Don’t wait up._

_I’m sorry, Babs. I’m gonna have to cancel dinner tonight._

_Where are you?_

_I mean it, Barbara. PICK UP YOUR PHONE._

_That’s it. I’m filing a police report, and I’m listing Dick as the primary suspect._

That last message had been sent Saturday at 2:23pm. She snatched up her phone and called her father. He answered on the first ring.

“I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m so sorry, Dad. You know how I get when I’m focusing,” Barbara rushed out. 

There was a snort on the other line. “Yes, you can tell Dick he only avoided prison time because Artemis called.”

Her father didn’t ask what she was up to and she didn’t offer an excuse. It was part of their routine for pretending the police commissioner didn’t know the identity of Batgirl. He didn’t ask. She never lied. 

Still, Barbara owed the blonde big time. “It had nothing to do with Dick. I haven’t seen him in days.” 

There was a very polite silence where her dad graciously did not bring up the fact that the only other time she had been off the gird was because she was with Dick Grayson, or more accurately Robin. 

There was a large sigh from the other end of the phone. “I worry about you, Babs. You work yourself too hard.” 

“Pot. Kettle,” she replied. 

“An old man can want better for his daughter.” 

She sighed. “I know, Dad. I just got carried away focusing on something. It won’t happen again.” 

“It better not,” he said. “I worry. And tell, Dick it’s been too long since I’ve seen him.” 

Babs wondered if he meant Dick or Nightwing. Both probably. “I thought you reported him as a suspect in my missing person’s case.” 

“He’s a bad influence on you,” her dad clarified. “But I like him.” 

“I make my own decisions.” Ice in her voice. 

Her dad immediately placated, “I know. I know. Will you be home for supper?” 

Sunday supper was an important part of the Gordon household. Barring any world-ending or Gotham-ending crisis, they always ate together on Sunday evenings. 

“Of course.”

“Be safe.”

She smiled. “You too.” 

Hanging up, she scrolled through her other messages. There were seven from Artemis. 

_What do you think about law school?_

_For me. Not you._

_??_

_Hello???_

_I swear if you’re still at the Tower…._

_Hey, when you wake up, you should know I called your dad for you. I told him you and I got caught up in wedding planning. I know you hate lying to him. Sorry. Also, Canary and I sent a team to investigate Stockton._

_Oh, and I’m so sorry. Had I known you were going to gush about Dick I never would have invited Wally with me to check on you, but since we were both here to check on M’gann…_

Barbara felt a blush rush up her face. 

_I did not gush about Dick._

_Also, what happened to M’gann?_

She flipped open her last message. It was from Wally. 

_When you and Dick have kids will you name one after me?_

She ignored him. 

Deciding she was way overdue for a shower, Babs climbed in and washed until she felt reassured that all the dirt was off, and she felt more awake. 

There were two new messages from Artemis. 

_Wally recorded you…_

_M’gann’s in the med bay. She’s been in a coma for over 24 hours._

She quickly typed a reply. 

_What happened?_

She also sent a text to Wally. 

_If that recording isn’t deleted, I will make sure there is a compilation of every single embarrassing moment of your life played at your wedding._

Hastily throwing on a Batgirl costume, Babs double-checked that her mask was on and her utility belt was stocked before rushing to the med bay. There was one other message on her phone. 

_I’ll explain when you get here._

Once she arrived in the waiting area, she discovered Artemis, Wally, Connor, Jason, and Dick. Connor paced on one side of the room, vacillating between shooting angry glances at the door to where M’gann must be and at Dick and Jason who were sitting in chairs far away from him. 

Wally kept flicking concerned glances between Dick and Connor and the door, and Artemis absently rubbed her thumb in circles along the back of Wally’s hand.

“What happened?” 

Five pairs of eyes immediately flicked over to her. Everyone opened their mouth to speak, but Jason’s quiet whisper hit her first. 

“It was my fault.” 

“No, it wasn’t,” Dick argued. 

“Oh, yes it was,” Connor refuted, stomping over. 

Dick stood up placing him in between his brother and the angry clone. Barbara didn’t miss the way his hand fell to his utility belt. 

Wally zipped in between them. “Guys, M’gann made a choice. One any of us would have made to protect anyone else in this room, and she’s the last person who would want us to duke it out over her.” 

Connor glared but returned to his side of the room. Dick’s sat back down but his hand remained close to his utility belt. 

Her fellow redhead dragged a hand down his face and sent her a pleading gesture. 

“What happened?” She repeated. “Facts, not opinions.” 

“Miss M removed the Lazarus Pit from Red Hood’s brain, resulting in a coma. Maritain Manhunter is currently trying to wake her up slowly. He’s hopeful and believes that Miss Martian overextended her powers but shouldn’t suffer any long-term effects,” Nightwing reported.

Barbara blinked. 

“Jason?” She asked.

“I’m fine, Barbie,” he responded. “I’m a real boy now and everything.” 

Barbara stared. “The Pit is gone?” 

Jason shrugged. “Yeah.” 

“That’s great!” 

Connor erupted, “M’gann is still in a coma!”

“She’s going to be fine.” 

“You don’t know that!” 

“Yes, I do!” 

“I forgot. You bats are omniscient!” 

Superman dropped into the room. “If you cannot remain quiet, you will be asked to leave.” Superman had a disappointed father look on his face. Without having kids, he managed that look much better than Bruce ever did. 

There were a few muttered apologies. Clark threw a concerned look between Connor and Dick but refrained from commenting. 

“Things are going well. Both M’gann and J’onn are stable,” Superman reported. “However, it will take another few hours. You may remain here if you’d like, but if you do so, you are agreeing to do so quietly.” 

After Superman left the room, Connor sulked in the far corner of the room. Dick and Jason were quietly talking, and Babs decided to approach Artemis and Wally first. Crossing her arms, she glared at the pair. 

“If you’re waiting for an apology, you’ll be waiting a long time,” Artemis told her. 

Wally snorted. Then threw an innocent look at Batgirl. “I just do what she asks.” 

“If you damaged my code,” she threatened. 

“Nightwing restored your code. Blue Beetle, Bumblebee, and Guardian are in Stockton. Nothing was lost, and you needed the sleep,” Artemis explained. 

“Okay,” she deflated. It was the right call. Babs was still annoyed, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know it was the right call. 

Before Artemis could gloat or Wally could rib her about her very platonic feelings towards Dick, she asked, “Did anyone get ahold of Aqualad or Beast Boy?” 

“Uh…” Wally stuttered.

“I’ll send him a message after I check in with the others.” 

Batgirl approached Superboy first. She sat in the chair next to him. “You okay?” 

He sent her a glare. “Shouldn’t you be asking your boyfriend?”

“First, Nightwing and I do not have a romantic relationship. Second, he is not currently on YJ active roster. You are. As team leader, that makes you my priority,” she responded much more calmly than she felt, which still wasn’t very calm. She’d need to work on her patient leader voice. 

Nevertheless, Connor gave her a grateful look. “I’m okay. I’m not harboring any destructive tendencies or guilt-ridden emotions. I just need M’gann to be okay.” 

She nodded. She and Connor weren’t exactly close, and she appreciated his honesty even if it was at Dick’s expense. 

“Please see Canary or me if that changes.” 

He nodded once. 

Her final stop made her feel much more awkward and out of place than the first two. 

“Thanks for restoring my code,” she told Nightwing. 

He gave her a tired, stretched out smile. “Course. It didn’t need much work anyway.” 

Nodding and refusing to address any emotions regarding her friend’s lackluster smile, she turned to Jason. “Hey Watson, how are you feeling?” 

“Fine,” he mumbled. His eyes stared at the floor, reminding Barbara of a thirteen-year-old Jason fresh from Gotham’s gutters who wouldn’t look anyone in the eye. 

She crouched down in front of him. “Hey,” she whispered and waited for him to look at her. His eyes were the dark blue of a midnight ocean again. “This is a good thing. M’gann’s going to be okay.” 

“Not even you know that, Sherlock.” 

She tapped his knee and smiled at him. “Superman doesn’t lie, Little Wing.” 

He nodded once. 

Satisfied, Barbara stood up and went to inform Kaldur and Garfield of the situation. 

 

The fog rolled over the streets of Gotham, unusual for early August and an early warning of a long winter ahead. Batgirl perched in the shadows of a building near the docks. No one had patrolled this area for three nights due to her research induced coma, which had gotten her chewed out by Black Canary and Batman. The former reminding her of her commitment regarding her limits, and the latter concerned with the state of his city with the Joker and Red Hood’s absence. 

Gotham had been unsettlingly quiet on the criminal front after the Joker’s death. Someone, most likely multiple someones, were planning something, and she had ignored her duty to Gotham. It was a mistake she would not make twice. 

After a half hour of no activity at the docks, Batgirl launched her grapple to patrol the Narrows, specifically where local drug dealers were known to gather before Hood’s destabilization of the drug trade. She didn’t have a problem admitting that Batman and Nightwing were better at interrogation tactics than her. She much preferred gathering her information from facts and not people, but sometimes, people, as unreliable as their memories tended to be, were the only choice. 

Hardly three blocks into the Narrows, she found a drug deal taking place. Dropping behind the drug dealer, the client saw her first. Fear flooded his eyes, and he took off running. She let him go. 

“Pity,” Batgirl stated. “I guess I’ll just have to get my answers from you.” 

The blonde-haired blue-eyed man initiating the deal turned to look at her and tripped over his own feet trying to escape. Batgirl approached him slowly. She didn’t bother with the intimidation tactics Batman and Nightwing used. Logic and reason had always been Barbara Gordon’s first form of attack. 

She plucked the bag of white powder from his hands. 

“Possession of a category three drug carries a mandatory minimum of six years. Possession with an intent to sell is even longer. You tell me what I want to know, I can forget I saw you,” Batgirl stated. 

“What do you wanna know?” The man quaked in terror. 

“We both know you’re a small fish in a much larger pond. I’m after a much bigger fish,” she offered. 

“I dunno nuttin,” he protested. 

Judging by his bloodshot eyes and the small tremors in his hands the man wasn’t lying. He was a user himself, not smart enough to stay away from the drugs he sold. She reached around her utility belt. 

The man whimpered in response, “Please don’t kill me.” 

Batgirl paused in her motions. “Bats don’t kill.” 

The drug addict let out a terrified chuckle. “The Big Bad Bat finally cracked.” 

“What?” 

“Ding Dong. The Joker’s dead,” he said. 

Barbara shook her head. If the small time criminals thought Batman killed the Joker, it wasn’t her business to correct them. She pulled out the business card for a recovery center close to this neighborhood. 

“You need help, not a jail sentence,” she stated. “Get help,” she pitched her voice an octave lower. “Or I’ll know.” 

Batgirl grappled away before the man could reply. 

It took another three hours before the vigilante finally came across a drug deal that had the potential to offer her some actual information. 

Perching on the top of a jungle gym, Batgirl watched a well-dressed Asian man step out of his Toyota Corolla, a car nice enough to stand out in the Narrows but not nice enough to signify the head of a gang. Still she had followed the car to the park as it was the first promising lead of the night. 

Three young men gathered under one of the basketball hoops walked towards the man. She wasn’t close enough to hear them, but the Asian man handed over a briefcase and the young men gave a wad of cash. Deciding she could easily take the small assembled group, she threw a batarang, which embedded in the briefcase. 

The trio of cowards immediately scattered, and Batgirl decided to let them run. They weren't why she was here. Then she threw two batarangs at the tires of the car. 

Spreading her cape, she glided towards the man on the basketball court. He didn’t look scared or even particularly distressed. He snapped his fingers twice. Batgirl didn’t hear any movement at all, but she certainly felt the boot that impacted with the side of her skull, knocking her prone. 

“Kill her,” the man ordered before retreating. 

Her opponent was covered head to toe in black and did not make a single sound when she moved, which she did with such ferocity and quickness that Batgirl was immediately on the defensive. The girl effortlessly combined a variety of martial arts and always seemed to know where the redheaded vigilante would attempt to strike next. Batgirl could not touch her, nor could she catch enough of a break to analyze her fighting style for a weakness. 

With no other option left to her, Batgirl took a kick she could have blocked using the force of the blow to propel her into a double backflip, giving her space. She landed deftly on the balls of her feet, looking for the girl’s response to her retreat. The girl hadn’t moved, except to cock her head to the side. Barbara had the uncomfortable feeling she was being studied. 

Batgirl reached for a bolo on her utility belt, but a sharp pain across her hand stopped her. The girl threw the batarang that was embedded in the briefcase with undeniable accuracy. Her attacker shook her head but made no other movement. 

“You don’t want to hurt me,” Barbara decided. 

A nod.

“But you will.”

Another nod. 

“What do you want?” 

There was an extended time of silence. Barbara was about to ask if the girl could speak when the girl opened her mouth. 

“Want out,” she forced out. The voice was labored, not used often. She pointed at Batgirl. “Good.” She pointed at the car with the flat tires. “Bad.” She paused a moment. “Want out,” she repeated. 

Taking a cautious step towards the ninja child, who had to be younger than when Jason first came to the manor, Batgirl offered, “Okay. How do we get you out?” 

The pointed at her. “You.” 

Hoping she wasn’t falling for a trap, the vigilante stated, “I want to help. Can you tell me how?” 

“Want out.” 

“I know,” Batgirl responded forcing the irritation out of her voice. “How do I get you out?” 

The ninja stared at her, most likely judging her incompetent. Barbara debated reaching for another bolo to tie her up and figure everything out later. She wished Nightwing were here. He was much better at reading and reassuring people. 

“Help or kill,” the girl told her. 

Batgirl blanched. “I’m not going to kill you.” 

“Help or I kill,” she clarified. 

She took a step back, readying a smoke bomb in her hand. “You could try.” 

The girl shrugged. “No choice.” 

Something finally clicked in the supposed genius’s brain. “You want me to take you somewhere safe.” 

A nod. 

Batman never prepared her for the contingency that you’re enemy would stop fighting and demand asylum. What would Bruce do? _Adopt her._ She snorted. That was hardly a viable solution. Instead, she did something incredible foolish that would either get her killed or save this girl. She removed her mask and crouched to the girl’s eye level. 

“I’m Barbara,” she stated calmly. 

The girl removed her mask revealing a round face with black eyes. Her hair was shaved. 

“Cass,” she said. 

“Hi Cass,” Babs said. “I’m going to get you somewhere safe.” 

The girl nodded. 

Activating her com, she called the cave. When Robin answered, she asked, “Robin, does Bruce Wayne still owe Batman a favor?” 

Cass tilted her head. 

“Um, yes?” Robin’s unsure voice echoed through the calm. 

“Have him meet me at my location ASAP.” 

“He may be indisposed.” 

Barbara wanted to smack Tim. This was not the time to hedge about identities. She sighed. Tim didn’t know that. “Tell him it’s urgent.” 

Hanging up on the call, Batgirl asked, “Where’s your associate?” 

Cass looked up at her a small smile on her lips as she made her fingers look like a person running. 

“He ran away?” 

Another nod. 

“Why didn’t you?” 

The girl’s face fell. “No where to go.” 

Something in Barbara’s heart clenched. Was this how Dick felt when he adopted Jason off the streets? 

“Why me?” She asked. 

The girl reached out slowly to show her intent was not to harm. She tapped the bat emblem on her chest. “Good,” she said. “Strong. Safe.” 

The Batmobile screeched into view. Cass practically flew through the air and landed in a crouch ready for a fight. Barbara gritted her teeth. She had told Tim to get Bruce, not Batman. 

But when the door to the Batmobile opened a very confused billionaire fell out of the car, landing on his hands and knees. Well, she did say ASAP. 

“What’s going on?” Bruce asked in his I’m-a-dumb-billionaire-and-you-can’t-prove-otherwise voice. “Batman woke me up, said it was urgent and threw me in his car.” Bruce made a show of looking around as he stood up, leaning on the car to keep his weight off his injured ankle. “Where is he?” 

“Batman’s not here,” Barbara stated, eager to cut off his antics. “I need a favor.” 

There was a slight narrowing of his eyes when he noticed she wasn’t wearing her mask. She arched an eyebrow and dared him to comment. He face quickly shifted back to bewilderment. 

“What do you need?” 

Cass had walked closer but was still keeping a safe distance from the scene. She would bolt or attack Bruce if Barbara wasn’t careful. 

“Cass needs a safe place to stay.” 

Bruce looked over at the girl clearly dressed as a combatant. “I don’t think I have a place for her.” 

Barbara gave her mentor an unimpressed glare. “We’ll stop by the Batcave and make sure she doesn’t have a tracker or anything. Then, you will provide her with a warm meal and a safe bed. Do you think you can handle that?” 

Bruce studied her, no doubt wondering how he could reprimand her and keep his identity a secret, but Barbara knew she had outmaneuvered him. There were multiple reasons she had asked for Bruce and not Batman. 

Beside her Cass giggled. Then she froze as if startled by the sound, and that was the exact moment Barbara Gordon knew she would protect this child with her life. It was also the same moment Bruce Wayne caved and gestured for them both to get in. 

Cass grabbed Barbara’s hand, and Babs guided her into the Batmobile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that considering Spoiler is going to be in Season 3 of YJ, I should have brought Steph in instead of Cass, but there's not enough Cass love. So many people write about the Bat brothers and forget about Cass, and I adore Cassandra Cain. Plus, I have plans for her in the sequel. (I'm not sure if Steph will show up in the sequel. Maybe I could be persuaded or maybe a plot point will bite, and she'll have to be included.) 
> 
> In case you couldn't tell, I have no plans of warping up the smash subplot in this fic. It will be addressed in the sequel, which can be thought of as a part two to this fic. 
> 
> One final chapter left: Dick takes his life back.


	31. Chapter 30: Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dick still isn't sure he's worth saving, but he knows something has to change.

“I’m fine, Conner,” M’gann reassured him for the third time. The Martian had the patience of a saint. She also was at least two shades of green paler than normal and unable to establish telepathic links with any of them at the moment, so Conner had a right to be concerned. Plus, Dick wasn’t going to risk angering the clone any further. Suberboy wasn’t nearly as forgiving as his girlfriend. 

Conner fluffed the pillows behind her again, and Dick bit back a smirk. Conner’s soft side only ever came out around the Martian. M’gann offered him a tender smile in return. At least, she thought it was sweet and not obnoxious. 

“And Jason’s fine too, right?” M’gann asked while reaching an arm out for the boy. 

Jason shuffled slowly forward and leaned into her hug. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

“Good.” M’gann smiled. “Then everything is okay.” 

“Everything is not okay,” Conner growled. 

M’gann glared at her boyfriend. Dick didn’t need to be here if the couple wanted to fight, although he did need to find a way to make everything up to Conner. He hadn’t been a good friend lately, and it burned inside of him. Another reminder of what a terrible person he was. 

_Dick Grayson is a good friend._

_What a joke._

He still couldn’t believe he had forgotten to check with the clone before handing the government Kryptonite. Dick knew Clark thought the military should have access to Kryptonite ever since the red Kryptonite disaster, but Conner and Bruce had never been on board with idea. How could he have been so selfish to ignore his friend?

“Dick,” M’gann interrupted his thoughts. “Are you okay?” 

Plastering his performer smile on his face and glad his eyes were hidden behind his mask, Dick fired back, “I think you’re confused about who’s in the hospital bed, Miss M. You sure, you’re okay?” 

M’gann looked at him in disbelief. Dick wondered how much of her ability to detect emotions was still intact, so he projected more positive vibes. An arm wrapped around his shoulders. 

“Don’t worry, M’gann,” Wally reassured. “I’m taking care of this lug.” 

Behind his mask, Dick rolled his eyes and just barely refrained from elbowing Wally in the side. M’gann seamed appeased though, so chalk that up to a win for his idiotic best friend. 

“That’s enough visitors for today. My niece needs her rest,” J’onn said as he walked through the door. “Conner, you may stay for a while longer if you wish.” 

Everyone, save Conner, gave M’gann one last hug before filing out of the door. 

“You are okay, right?” Wally asked as soon as they started walking away from the med bay. 

“Yes, Wally, I’m fine.” 

Artemis, who had neglected to change into her uniform for the visit, rolled her eyes and tugged on his wrist, demanding his attention. “Leave your boyfriend alone.” 

“Aw, babe. You know I save all my love for you.”

Gagging, Jason asked, “Can you two be gross somewhere else?” 

“There’s no reason to be jealous. I’m sure you’ll find a fellow troll to love someday.” 

“At least she’ll be prettier than you, West.” 

Annoyed by the all too familiar bickering between the pair, Dick tuned them out and waited for them to run out of steam or for when he would be forced to intervene. Artemis slid up beside him. 

“Why do they do this?” She asked. 

Dick shrugged. “They’re in a constant and unstoppable contest of who is the most annoying.” 

Artemis’s brow furrowed as she studied the pair. They were still arguing and Dick hardly thought the pair were worth paying attention to. The easiest way to deal with their endless squabbles were to ignore them. 

“Oh my god,” Artemis whispered. 

Dick turned to face her. “What?”

Shaking her head, she knocked Wally upside the head. “Knock it off.” 

Jason chortled in delight. Dick reached over and flicked him on the ear.

“Don’t think I won’t tell Al about your abhorrent manners.”

His brother looked horrified, and Dick bit the insides of his cheek to prevent his smile from escaping. Otherwise, Jason would call his bluff. 

“Fine,” Jason huffed. “I am leaving.” 

“Come on, Little Wing. Don’t be like that.”

Jason flipped him off and kept walking. 

Then there was a blur of movement, and Dick was forced out of the way. When his senses returned to normal, he noticed Beast Boy in the form of a cheetah in the hallway. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “Are you okay? Is M’gann okay? She’s not dead, right?” 

Dick crouched down to his level. “Hey, I promised no more faking anyone’s death for at least a year. M’gann’s okay. She’s in medical if you want to see her.” 

There was a fast nod before Garfield scurried off towards the med bay. 

“A whole year, huh?” Wally asked a twinge of anger in his voice. 

“No,” Artemis intervened. “We are not having this argument again. We had a plan. The plan worked. The end.” 

Dick was grateful for the save. “I’ve missed you Mis.” 

“Of course you have. I’m the reasonable one.” 

“Hey!” 

Ignoring her fiancé, she asked, “So what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?” 

He shrugged. It wasn’t like his presence was exactly welcomed around the Tower or at the manor at the moment. 

“Great,” Artemis replied. “You’re coming over to hang out with us then.” 

Laughing Nightwing followed the pair back to their home in Palo Alto. 

 

After an enjoyable evening goofing off with Artemis and Wally, Nightwing returned to the Watch Tower to seek out Conner. He checked out the med bay with no success. M’gann was sleeping and visitors were not welcome. Checking three different training rooms, he still hadn’t found the clone, nor had Dick been able to find him in the Conner’s room. He was about to check the zeta tube records when he heard static coming from one of the smaller rec rooms. 

He walked towards the room careful not to mask his footsteps and knocked on the open doorframe. 

“Mind if I join you?” Dick asked. 

Conner didn’t reply, which wasn’t a no, so Dick sat on a chair next to the couch the clone was laying on to watch the thrilling adventures of static. He had never understood why this was supposed to be relaxing. The crunching shoveling noise of the static gave him a headache, although the dancing black and white dots weren’t the worst thing in the world. If he could tune out the audio and just focus on those dots for a while, it might possibly be calming. 

Nightwing had finally succeeded in muting the noise in his head when Conner interrupted. 

“What do you want?” 

Dick mulled the comment over before responding. “I want to be friends again.” 

“Friends trust each other.” 

As much as he deserved it, the comment still stung. Dick wasn’t trustworthy. Life was better for people when he was not involved in their lives. 

Swallowing, he replied, “I understand.” 

Sitting up, Conner glared at him. “Why don’t you trust me?” 

“What?” 

“Every time I turn around, you’re acting like I wasn’t a founding member of this team!”

“What are you talking about?” 

“M’gann and I were the only two original members not told about your plan. If M’gann had known, Kaldur never would have been attacked and Jaime’s scarab never would have taken over!” 

“I know,” Dick replied. The familiar ache of his failure brimming to the surface. “I screwed up. I shouldn’t have hid it from you two.” 

Conner stood up. “Do you know that? Because the next thing I know you’re lying left and right about your depression.” 

“I. Am. Not. Depressed,” Dick ground out. 

“Right.” Conner snorted. “You just lied about your ability to handle Wally’s death.” 

Dick swallowed his irritation. He would not get angry with Conner. “I was confused,” he explained. 

Shaking his head, Conner told him, “Then what’s your excuse for forgetting to ask me about the Kryptonite? I know how much Jason means to you. Do you really think I wouldn’t have agreed? That’s what being a hero is about! You taught me that.” 

Stunned, Nightwing swallowed, searching for an answer.

“Forget it, Dick,” Conner said as he walked towards the door. “I get it. We’re not friends.” 

With that the clone was gone, leaving a broken friendless bird to think about all of his failures. 

 

Dick wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting in the rec room with his hands between his legs staring at the floor when his commlink chimed. 

“Nightwing,” Robin’s voice asked. “I need you back at the Batcave.” 

Standing up, Dick shut off the TV and adjusted his mask before heading towards the door. “What’s up Robin?” 

“Batgirl brought a child ninja back to the cave, and Bruce is pissed.” 

“Names,” he reminded Tim. 

There was a short pause. “Batman isn’t here. Bruce Wayne is.” 

Dick did a double take. “Bruce Wayne is currently in the Batcave yelling at Batgirl while an unknown is in the cave,” he repeated in disbelief. 

“Batgirl asked for Bruce’s help. They returned with a small ninja child, who immediately called Bruce ‘Bat’. Bruce locked down the Cave and started yelling. Then Batgirl started yelling, and the girl disappeared,” Tim’s voice sounded slightly panicked. 

“You have an unknown in the Cave who knows Bruce’s identity and Batgirl and Bruce are yelling at each other instead of searching for her,” Nightwing replied as he started sprinting towards the nearest zeta tube. “You have to find her.” 

“I know that,” Robin huffed. 

“I’ll be right there,” Nightwing told him. He programmed the zeta and entered in his bypass for the Batcave lockdown and ran into the fray. 

The sound of voices yelling greeted Dick as he stepped into the low light of the Batcave. 

“You put all our identities at risk!” 

“She is a child!” 

“So is Robin!” 

Babs screamed in frustration. “She needs our help!” 

“She is a security risk.” 

Time to intervene. 

“You know, it occurs to me that your security risk is more of a threat when you don’t know where she is,” Nightwing stated, leaning false casually against the Batcomputer. 

Bruce whipped around. “Where is she?” 

Dick shrugged. “My guess hiding from the screams echoing around the cave.” 

Babs looked slightly chagrined. She was in full Batgirl costume without her mask. Apparently, all identities were out the window tonight.   
_Wonderful._

Bruce set his face in a frown. _Yup, still pissed about the Kryptonite._

“Now is not the time for jokes, Nightwing.” 

“You’re right. It’s time to find the child you misplaced,” Dick responded, voice low. He was way passed being put into his place by Batman or   
Bruce. 

“Nightwing’s right. I’m going to search the caves,” Batgirl replied. 

“Check with Robin. He’s already searching.” 

Babs nodded. 

Before Batgirl finished attaching her climbing gear. A small ninja did a triple summersault from somewhere in the cave ceilings and landed lightly on her feet. Dick was impressed. 

_Could I teach her a quadrable?_

“Hi,” Dick greeted. Since there was no point in hiding his identity, he removed his mask. “I’m Dick.”

The girl screwed up her face at that. 

“Yes, that’s really his name,” Barbara clarified.

The girl studied him and flicked her attention over to Bruce before responding. “Cass,” she replied. 

“Hi Cass, it’s nice to meet you.” 

Dick offered her one of his carefree grins. Cass frowned in response. 

Bruce studied the girl but didn’t comment. 

“Why did you come with Batgirl?” Dick tried. 

The girl pointed at Babs, Bruce, and Dick in turn. “Bats. Safe,” she said. 

“Is someone after you?” Dick asked. 

The girl scrunched up her face in confusion. 

“She called the man she was with bad,” Babs offered. 

Nightwing shifted his attention to his fellow vigilante. “Where did you find her?” 

“She was ordered to kill me.” 

“She was trying to kill you?!” Dick exclaimed. Suddenly, he had a lot more sympathy for Bruce’s paranoia about security risks. 

“Don’t want to,” Cass responded, glaring at him.

Batgirl placed an arm on Cass’s shoulder. “We can help her. _I_ can help her.” 

“You brought a threat and a security risk into the cave,” Bruce stated through clenched teeth. 

“I helped a child,” Babs replied tersely. 

“Not a threat. Not a child,” Cass said with a stamp of her foot. 

“Okay,” Dick said with a forced smile. “Let’s not act too crazy with new kid.” 

“Not a kid,” Cass repeated. 

“Definitely not. I bet you’re an old lady in disguise,” Dick agreed. Cass looked at him in confusion. She was cute when she did that. “How can we help you be safe?” 

Cass shook her head. 

Bruce studied her again. Then he crouched down to her eyelevel and asked, “Ni pa shenme?” 

“Baba.” 

Bruce’s face softened. “You may stay in the Batcave.” 

Cass nodded. 

“The Batcave is hardly a fitting place for someone to stay,” Batgirl argued. 

Standing up, Bruce’s face hardened as he spoke to his second protégé, “She will stay in the Batcave until I’ve determined she’s not a security risk. Then and only then will she be allowed to leave. Is that clear?” 

Nightwing stepped in between Bruce and Batgirl. Bruce wouldn’t be pushed further. Nightwing had already stretched Batman too far past his limits with his Kryptonite stunt. He wouldn’t let Babs take the fall for the anger Dick caused. 

“Crystal, Big Man,” he said. “We’ll set her up on a bunk in the med bay.” 

Bruce nodded. Babs glared at them both. 

“Robin, the intruder has been found. Report in,” Bruce said, focusing his attention elsewhere. 

Dick led the way to the beds in the med bay. “Come on, Cass. Let’s get you settled.” 

“What is his problem?” Babs hissed. 

Dick gave her a look of disbelief. “Come on, Babs. You exposed his identity. What other possible reaction were you expecting?” 

“It wasn’t like this when you brought in Jason,” she argued. 

Laughing, Nightwing responded, “You weren’t there when Bruce found out I let our identities slip on purpose. I was grounded for two months, and I mean full grounded, no technology, no patrol, no cases, no fun.” 

Plus, Dick had been smart enough to let Bruce think Jason was his idea. He was also smart enough not to say that to Babs. 

“As I recall, Master Richard, you doubled the length of your punishment when you decided, out of boredom, to infect the Batcomputer with a malevolent computer virus,” Alfred interjected from where he emerged behind the privacy screen of one of the hospital beds. 

Dick felt his face turn hot. It was a rather immature retaliation, and it caused a whole slew of problems in the crime fighting world. He had nearly been responsible for Batman being too late to save a group of children from a sex trafficking ring. Bruce had been understandably livid. Dick was lucky that the only consequence was a longer grounding. Of course, Dick had to live with the reminder that he was a failure as well.   
Babs smacked him on the arm. “That’s what that was about. You told me you had mono from kissing a girl on patrol.” 

And she had bought it with no questions asked. That had hurt. He knew he had a bit of a reputation, but he thought Babs knew him better than that. Dick never understood how anyone believed he did half of the things people said regarding his scandalous dating life with the world’s most overprotective father figure. The first time Zatanna had come over Bruce had literally bugged his room. Besides, he would never just kiss and run. Babs should have known that. 

Alfred raised a very unimpressed eyebrow at Dick. Okay, it had been a dumb excuse, especially because he had been trying to make Babs jealous, but he was fifteen. Give him a break. 

The butler turned his attention to the Cave’s newcomer, who had watched the interaction with a face of curiosity. “Now, Miss Cassandra, was it?”

A nod. 

“My name is Alfred Pennyworth, and I am here to assist you while you stay with us,” Alfred informed her while pulling back the privacy screen. 

Dick let out a low whistle. Alfred was good. Everyone knew that, but this was something else. The small area had been transformed into a miniature bedroom. A jade green lamp, which sat on a cherry oak nightstand, illuminated the small space. There was a small armchair, next to a smaller table with a stack of books on top. The med bay television had been wheeled over in front of the bed that was made with…was that his old comforter? He thought Alfred burned that. 

“I do apologize, Miss Cassandra. This was all I could do on short notice, and I apologize for the garish yellow of the comforter,” Alfred said with a smile. “Richard had such odd tastes when he first arrived.” 

Cass stared at the tiny space. “For me?” 

Alfred placed one hand on her shoulder. “Yes, my dear.” 

Cass gave a hesitant smile and walked around touching and studying everything. 

“Ms. Gordon, if you would please freshen up, and bring a pair of Robin’s sweats. I’m afraid those will have to do until I am able to acquire something more appropriate,” Alfred instructed. 

Babs stammered, “How- how- I mean. How did you know?” 

Dick couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face. It was not every day where someone made his favorite genius speechless.   
“When you’ve been privy to as many fights in this household as I have, you develop a knack for ascertaining how they will conclude.”   
Dick did not miss the pointed look Alfred gave him with that statement. 

“In other words, he’s Alfred,” he offered. “It’s best not to question it.” 

“Teach me,” Babs stated. 

“Beg pardon?

Babs had that fierce intensity in her face that Dick first saw when she decided she would be Batgirl. “Alfred,” she spoke slowly, forming the thoughts in her brain before speaking. “You are a mastermind. You’re the only person who can single-handedly take down Batman without blinking. It would be an honor to learn from you.” 

“Are you planning further mutiny?” Alfred asked calmly but Dick could see the undercurrent of shock on the elderly man’s expression. 

“No,” Barbara denied. “I mean – I just.” 

Alfred rested a hand on her shoulder. “It has been a tiring day for us all. I’ll consider your proposal at a later time. For now, you’ve brought a guest into this Cave, I suggest you take care of her.” 

Babs nodded and headed towards the locker rooms. Cass was still studying her new abode. Currently, she was running her hand softly down the comforter. Dick couldn’t place the look on her face, but something told him Babs made the right call. 

“You’re good, Al. You know that,” Dick said. 

“I merely do my best,” Alfred responded. “Now, do me a favor lad and take these to your father.” The elderly man handed him a pair of crutches. “He seems to have misplaced them in all of this unpleasantness.” 

Dick bit back a groan and made his way towards Bruce. Nightwing leaned the crutches against the Batcomputer. Bruce grunted in response but offered no other form of acknowledgment. Knowing that any other form of interaction would end in a fight, Nightwing left for the showers. 

After he emerged from the showers in a pair of loose sweats and a t-shirt that asked for a slice of pi, he heard Alfred’s voice reading _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_. Spying around the corner of the privacy curtain, he saw Cass seated on the bed watching the retired actor with fascination. Babs sat on the floor with her back to the bed and a soft smile on her lips. The glow of the lamplight gave her face an radiant appearance. She was beautiful. 

Ducking away before he was caught staring, Dick headed upstairs. He had a few more plans he needed to finish before he called it a night. 

 

The next afternoon, Dick returned to the medical bay of the tent to have his final set of stitches removed. Batgirl and her new ninja friend were sparring on the training mats. By the look on their faces, both girls were having a blast. Staring down at his thin stomach that used to actually show off his muscular abs, Dick refrained from sighing. He was no match for either of them at the moment. How had he allowed himself to lose so much muscle? Could he do nothing right?

Alfred removed the final strand of stitches. “There. Hopefully, we won’t have a repeat performance.” 

“I promise I’ll never use duct tape instead of stitches again.” 

Raising one eyebrow, Alfred replied, “I’m astonished that it wasn’t infected.” 

“Someone has to do something to keep you on your toes.” Dick grinned. 

Alfred ignored him. “On the scale.” 

Dick took a deep breath. This was the most important part of his plan. If he was still underweight, there was no chance Alfred would support him. He had forced down six of those terrible protein shakes in the last two days alone. 

Stepping onto the scale, Dick held his breath.

132.4. 

Dick let out his breath. 

“It appears you have finally reached an acceptable weight for your height,” Alfred offered with a small hum. 

“All thanks to you.” 

Dick received a very unimpressed look in reply. Buttering up Alfred never worked. Best to just dive in. Stepping off the scale, Dick rubbed his bare left foot along the side of his right calf. 

“I can’t stay here, Alfred.” 

Alfred gave Dick his undivided attention, and Dick rushed to explain, “It’s just. I’m going stir crazy.” 

“I suppose I should be grateful that you deigned to inform me of your impending departure this time,” Alfred responded, voice nearing towards glacial. 

Dick winced. “Uh…yeah. I shouldn’t have left like that..before.” 

The look Alfred was giving him was as bland as milk. 

“Anyway,” he tried. “I can’t stay in the manor. I need something to do.” 

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “I fail to see how staying in the manor and finding something to occupy your time are mutually exclusive.” 

Dick rubbed the back of his neck and shifted his weight on his feet. This was going rather poorly. Time to bite the bullet. 

“I’m going back to the Bludhaven Police Academy.” 

Alfred blinked. Then he turned to sanitize the used medical supplies. 

“I know I agreed to stay off the streets until I was sure I wanted to come back alive,” Dick explained. “But I need something to do, and I want to do this. Besides, I still have three months left at the academy, and it’s not like rookie cops receive dangerous patrols. My first year will likely just be speeding tickets.” 

“You are an adult, Master Richard.” Alfred’s tone was frozen. 

“I know,” Dick tried. “But I want your blessing.” _Because he sure wasn’t going to get it from Bruce._

Alfred stilled. Then he turned to face his surrogate grandchild. “I suppose finishing your degree would not fall under the category of something to do.” 

Dick stifled a groan. He had managed to avoid this conversation with Bruce, but that was mostly because his father figure was frantic that Dick was going to hurl himself off a building in the near future. To say that he avoided the conversation with Alfred would be inaccurate, yet when Dick dropped out of college he had been too focused on the Reach to notice Alfred’s disapproval. And then he had left…

“Bruce had me memorize the periodic table at 12,” Dick argued. “There’s no reason I need a college degree. It’s just a stupid piece of paper.” 

“Education is the most valuable gift we can give ourselves, Master Richard,” Alfred told him. 

“I can be educated without a degree.” 

Alfred studied him for a long moment. “Do your future career goals cease at a mere police officer? Most departments require a bachelor’s in criminal justice to pursue detective work.” 

Future career goals? Dick wasn’t even sure what he wanted for dinner tonight. Let alone his life plans. Half of the time, he wasn’t convinced that him being alive in the future was a good thing. 

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I just want to help people.” 

“There are many ways to help people, Master Richard.” This time the elderly man’s tone was less frosty. 

Dick ducked his head and stared at the floor. “But I’m good at this.” Most days, it was the only thing he was good at. 

Alfred’s hand rested on his shoulder. His face had softened considerably. “I am afraid it is our fault that you believe this is the only thing you are good at.” Dick’s grandfather sighed. “I do not approve of this decision, but I’ll give you my blessing provided you meet certain conditions.” 

Bruce’s original protégé was not an idiot. “What conditions?” 

“I want to see you weekly for Sunday supper. I want to see for myself that you’re still eating and that you’re not hiding any injuries.” 

Dick bit down his first reactionary comment. This was a compromise he could make. “Okay.” 

“I want you to take at least one college class over the fall term,” Alfred continued. 

“What?” Dick protested. 

Alfred gave him a judgmental look. “You just informed me that you have the periodic table memorized. I’m sure you could find a low level chemistry class that you could ace with minimal effort.” 

Dick clenched his teeth. He should have just gone to Bruce. “Fine.” 

“Lastly, I want you to take Jason with you.” 

Blinking, Dick tried to gather what was just asked of him. He had planned to offer Jason refuge if he wanted it, but “Why?” 

“I am well aware that the pair of you are quite protective of one another. I believe space away from the manor will be helpful for Jason’s recovery, and I shall feel reasonably less worried about this new venture should you not be alone,” Alfred concluded. 

Dick snorted. “In other words, you want a spy.” 

The British gentleman raised one eyebrow. “I’m trusting that it will not come to that, Master Richard.” 

“Of course not,” he agreed, nodding. “So…” Dick grinned. “Does this mean you’ll tell Bruce?” 

Dick wished he had a camera for the look Alfred gave him in reply. 

 

In the end, Dick decided to avoid the fight by leaving Batman a note. There was no way Bruce responded well to his son deciding to carry a firearm on a permanent basis, especially since he was still cooling off about the Kryptonite fiasco. Dick was going to let Clark talk Bruce down about that one. All things regarding Krypton fell under Clark’s discretion. Eventually, Bruce would realize that Dick and Clark had made the best choice so everyone could pursue healing. ….he hoped. But even if Bruce didn’t. It would be best to realize now, rather than later, that Dick would always be a disappointment. 

Signing off the computer, Dick picked up his duffle bag full of Alfred-approved items i.e. there was nothing even remotely Nightwing related allowed out of the Cave. He hopped onto his bike, revved the engine once, twice, and then sped off towards Bludhaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End part one.
> 
> “Ni pa shenme?” - "What are you afraid of?"  
> "Baba" - Dad
> 
> I realized I had been spelling Conner's name wrong this entire time. I'll go back soon to fix it in previous chapters. Don't be too mad with Conner regarding his conversation with Dick. The reality is that Dick hasn't treated Conner fairly at all, but Dick is still in a place where he can't separate a failing with being a failure. 
> 
> The quick shift from having a good time with friends to feeling completely friendless and pathetic is pretty true of depressive episodes. It's amazing how fast one can get down on themselves. 
> 
> I don't know what could possibly go wrong with Dick deciding to just leave Bruce a note... Dick and Bruce still have a long way to go... 
> 
> What you can expect in part two:   
> Dick slowly realizing he isn't a complete failure.   
> Jason reconciling who he is with who he was and what he has done.   
> Tim beginning to see his worth.   
> Cass learning she can be more than a weapon.   
> Bruce learning that if he wants his kids to heal, he's going to have to heal.   
> And Wally, who isn't in denial about his trip to the speed force, plans a wedding. Artemis plans for criminal reform. Roy continues to be father of the year. Babs chases a chemist.
> 
> I'm not sure when part two will be started. I'd like to finish the Amazon oneshot before working on that and fair warning, that is all angst and hurt. No comfort. 
> 
> Lastly, a huge thank you to every single person who has reviewed or left kudos. Every single one of you have helped me believe in myself as a writer. You have given me a precious gift. This fic may never have been finished without all of you. So if there's any fic you have enjoyed, please go let the author know you liked it. It makes a big difference. 
> 
> Until next time, friends.

**Author's Note:**

> I am taking the common held belief that Bruce Wayne is a better dad in the Young Justice universe than in the Batman comics. Tim is still living at home, so while Alfred cares for him - he doesn't consider him a grandchild yet.


End file.
